


Saint Vingo's

by InterNutter



Series: When We Were Us [11]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, baby twins, removal of free will, the worst reform school in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 24,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: The twins thought merely being separated was the worst thing to happen to them. This place is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting a chapter a day until I run out of chapters or until I have three or more stories lined up in this tour de force.
> 
> This story contains lots of really shitty ways to control people and "behaviour modification" that is definitely abuse in pretty sunglasses. If you think any of this is unrealistic, look up: Victorian-era workhouses, reform schools, and mental institutions. There was a period of time in which people believed they could just bully folk into being 'normal'. I just added an extra thread of magic into the mix. Oh, and a racial supremacist in charge.

There was a picture of a group of young Elves in a Dragon’s Den. One was holding a pipe. One was blissed out. One was staring defiantly at the artist who had drawn them. There was writing in Elven, Dwarven, Orc and Common.

_ They only look like adults,  _ the poster said.  _ Under one hundred is still underage. _

Koko tore it off the wall before he got to the blither about the plague of underage Elves in the streets, and how you too could help. That help never came in the form of food, shelter, clothing or a job, so he didn’t care.

People were all about common charity helping the downtrodden whilst trampling those downtrodden at every chance. At least this town didn’t have asshole homelessness laws. They just had asshole prostitution laws. And an awareness campaign.

Fortunately, nobody had thought about identification papers, so clients and streetwalkers just verbally reassured each other. And only other Elves could really tell how old an Elf was just by looking at them. And some of them really didn’t care to try. Those ones, the twins avoided.

Koko had cheap amulets for Resist Poison and Resist Curse. Lulu had those and one for Baby’s Bane. They’d break after five uses, and cost another five silver to replace. But it was all they could afford. Soup kitchens were rounding up underage Elves, so they had to cook over illegal campfires or on improvised stoves made out of whatever metal would serve.

In-between dodging the Street Knights.

They weren’t ordained by any ruler. They were basically constables of the Watch or the Guard, but they went into Dragon’s Dens and came away with spoils.

They were rounding up the Mollies and Jolly boys, too, but the twins had a small boy they paid to give an owl call when he spotted the Watch coming. And it had worked well. For all of a month.

The Knights had hired mages.

The first Koko knew about it was when he was lighting up his own pipe and the net came out of nowhere. A tangle-net. The more he struggled, the harder it was to escape.

“[Run, Lu!]”

But no. She threw fireballs at them and tried to burn his net. And she got caught too.


	2. Chapter 2

They clung to each other in the dusty courtyard. Other street Elves clustered in groups of friends. Some stood alone. All of them were lost and frightened. They were surrounded by a high and imposing wall. A big door was chained shut on one side, and on the other were two doors. One had a pink silhouette of an Elf female. The other, a blue silhouette of an Elf male.

Some fellow Elves were pointing up, above the wall with the two doors.

Koko looked up. There, above the parapet, was a High Elf. She spoke High Elven in a simple style that one might talk to children. He was secretly glad. He hadn’t spoken proper High Elven in so long that he’d almost forgotten everything he’d learned.

“[Welcome, innocent ones,]” she said. “[This is Saint Vingo’s Reform School for Wayward Elven Youth. Here, we will teach you to be proper citizens. How to be proper Elves. Many of you have no homes. Many of you have no family. Here, you will find both.]”

“[I call bullshit,]” mumbled Lulu, using _Us_.

Koko snorted.

“[We begin by removing one avenue of sin. Line up with the door that matches your gender, and walk through. You will be tested and accommodated according to your needs.]”

The twins clung tight to each other. Refused to move. They had rarely been apart since birth. And the times they were apart were terrifying and traumatic.

Other Elves refused to move, too. Some didn’t know what she was saying. Some didn’t see why they ought to. Most shuffled into line with a resigned air.

Once the resigned were through, some hefty guards came for everyone else. The twins slowly backed up to the chained door as other Elves were gradually herded into their designated door. Then the guards only had the twins left.

They reached for the hazel twigs that should have been in their hair, only to find that they had been stripped off them. They were left with cantrips only. Ray of Frost. Produce Flame. Koko tried to Mage Hand the guards’ pants down, but failed. Prestidigitation to create a foul odour did nothing to dissuade them.

It all failed.

The guards had them. Pulled them apart.

The twins fought. Clinging to each other desperately. With every ounce of strength they had. But the guards were stronger.

Koko only struggled when he felt his sister’s fingers slip from his own. Tried to burn the guards. Tried to freeze them. Filled their helmets with the worst stench he could imagine. Lulu was bloodying her hands trying to fight them. Singing her clothes from the heat of her own anger.

And then the guards had him through the door with the blue figure. Which resolutely shut after he was through.

Only then did he start setting up a ruckus. Not that it did much good. They tossed him into a small room with a padded floor and padded walls and shut him in.

Darkness. Silence.

Both complete and unnerving in that completion. He was used to seeing at least a few shades of grey. Some definition in the absence of light.

There was none.

Koko tried to shout, but no sound escaped his throat. It was… abject.

Abject silence. Abject darkness.

Abject… Nothing.

Sensation, too, slipped away during the minutes. He couldn’t feel the soft floor under his legs. He couldn’t feel his own clothes against his skin. He couldn’t feel his breath or his own heart beating.

And then the door opened, and he was on the floor, and there was air and light and he was dragged out of there, still screaming himself hoarse. Limp as a wet rag. Dragged into another room where his body was strapped into a chair and an Elf woman sat opposite him. There was a plain wooden desk between them. A tray on the desk. And in that tray, all of his stuff. Even the fake nosegay he used as a money pouch. Even the hazel twig he had been using as a wand. Even the strips of leather that had been tying his hair.

“Lady, what the fuck?” he said. Something stung his ear. He ignored it.

She spoke in High Elven. “[We do not use curses and we do not speak the tongues of lesser races.]”

“Fornicate you,” said Koko. The same sting. The same place.

“[We do not disrespect our elders. We do not speak the tongues of lesser races.]”

“Gimmie a fuckin’ reason, lady.” Sting. This could get annoying.

“[I know you understand High Elven, my child. Can you speak it?]”

“I’m not your child. I watched _my_ mother fucking die in Tre Llew-Ddion.” Three stings.

The woman sighed. “[We do not disrespect our elders. We do not curse. We do not speak the names of the dead. Do you understand?]”

“I understand you’re a bitch!”

She made a gesture, and Koko felt his lips clamp shut against his will. Felt his raw throat refuse to make a noise as he struggled against the straps holding him to the chair.

“[You will listen,]” she said.

_Fuck you,_ he thought.

Her words even invaded his mind. There was no escape. “[Saint Vingo’s Reform School for Wayward Elven Youth has been running for five years, and we have had nothing but success. Even with tough cases like you. Minor infractions are punished with minor pain. Major attempts to disrupt our smooth running will be punished with time in the Quiet Room. I understand you’ve already had a visit.]”

_I am going to find a way to kill you slowly,_ he thought.

“[For each step towards the Saint Vingo’s ideal, you will achieve rewards. Comfort, for example. A certain amount of freedom. And when you are an ideal citizen, you will be re-integrated into society with a new family and a better destiny.]” Her elegant fingers caressed Koko’s things. “[You have some talent. Especially this trinket,]” She picked up the nosegay, opened it, and poured out all the coin that he and Lulu had shared. It amounted to thirty gold, but most of it was in coppers. “[You will make a fine artificer for a family of mage-crafters, perhaps. Now. When I remove your gag spell, I expect you to look me in the eye and speak what you can of High Elven. Otherwise, you will go back into the Quiet Room.]”

Koko had no real desire to go back there. But he looked her in the eye anyway. Revelled in her flinch as she realised he was witch-eyed. The spell fell. He smacked his chops. “[Where Lulu?]”

“[Where _is_ Lulu, please honoured elder,]” corrected the bitch. “[Repeat.]”

“[Where _is_ Lulu?]” he let the sting happen. Glared hate at the bitch.

“[You will not see your little girlfriend again.]”

Utter rage. Koko fought the straps. Struggled to bring forth any magic he had, but it was somehow beyond his reach. “SHE’S MY TWIN! SHE’S EVERYTHING I HAVE! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU TO THE WORST HELLS YOU FU--” The silence spell clamped back around him. His ears sang with pain.

“[Disappointing,]” she sighed. “[Take him back.]”

It was pointless to struggle, but he struggled anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn’t go much better for Lulu. The Quiet room had the same, terrifying effect. She fought it by making fire. Burning with rage. By the time she was done, she had no clothes and no hair. The guards got their pretty uniforms scorched and then… all the flames went out.

She raged. She howled. She screamed, but not even a flicker of fire could come forth.

They dragged her to a similar room, where the same woman waited until the straps were tied. Where she made a gesture and Lulu’s mouth shut and her throat fell silent. “[Can you understand me?]”

High Elven. Just like the address to the crowd. Lulu stared at the tray of her things. Wand. Amulets. A small handful of coppers. The trinket she had had in her hair. Nothing special. There was no reason to lie. Yet. Lulu nodded.

“[You have a talent for flame,]” said the woman. “[But no control. I see you burned away everything that was not your own skin.]”

_ On purpose, because I couldn’t burn anything else. _ Lulu thought, staring at the hazel stick. If she could just summon a mage hand…

“[You are warded against performing further magics until such time as you earn the privilege of spellcasting. Here, we will reform you into a proper Elf. One worthy of love. And you begin by paying respect to your elders. Look me in the eye.]”

Lulu did. Smirking as she raised her gaze. Let her take in those witch eyes and soak it in. She stumbled a little in her presentation of the always-under-control Queen Bitch. “[I suppose this is why you fell in love with your alleged brother.]”

She knew where Koko was!

Lulu wriggled and squirmed. Trying to twist her way out of her restraints. She wanted to curse this vile woman for her unholy assumptions.

“[When you speak, use what you know of High Elven. Or there will be consequences.]” The spell relaxed.

“[He is brother! He is mine brother. Space quarter hours born, three.]”

“[He is my brother, honoured elder. We were born three quarters of an hour apart, honoured elder.]” Queen Bitch corrected. “[Repeat.]”

“[No.]”

Her ears stung.

“[We respect our elders here,]” said Queen Bitch. “[You will do what you are told or you will be punished.]”

Lulu looked her dead in her eyes. “[No reasoning of respect.]” And then she switched to Common. “You’re not worthy of my respect.” Her ears stung.

“[You and your boyfriend have something in common. You are both difficult cases. Stubborn.]” She tented her fingers. “[You will learn.]”

They dragged her back to the Quiet Room. Kicking and screaming the entire way.


	4. Chapter 4

Three days passed, according to Koko’s best reckoning. They had taken his clothes. They had cut his hair down to the scalp. They had cut him off from any access to magic at all. And they had not given him food.

When light and sensation returned, this time, Koko was too weak to sit up or make noise. He was seriously pondering the validity of continuing to breathe. They dragged him out and shoved him into a scratchy shift, then manhandled him into a chair. Put slop in front of him and gave him a crude wooden spoon.

Koko sniffed it. Urgh. He would never be hungry enough to eat this.

“[You will eat,]” said one of them.

“I will vomit,” he said, to the stinging of his ears. “And I won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“[You will eat,]” they said. And made a gesture.

His body was no longer under his control. He couldn’t shy away from the foul glop on the spoon. Couldn’t keep his mouth shut to avoid it entering his mouth. Could not retch or spit or choke on it.

It tasted like glue. Like someone had purposely boiled the life out of vegetables and meat until there was nothing left but gutta-percha, and then fed it to him.

He didn’t even have the freedom to ask if they’d heard of salt.

“[Thank you for the meal, honoured elder,]” one of them coached. “[Repeat.]”

“[Never.]” His ears felt like they were on fire.

Every foetid mouthful, one of the attendants kept coaching him to thank them for this alleged food.

“[No.]”

“[This is not food.]”

“[Do you  _ know _ what spices are?]”

“This is the worst fucking crap I have ever put in my mouth, and I’ve eaten  _ Otyugh _ flesh!”

“I’d rather eat dung!”

“[This is glue!] You’re making me eat  _ glue _ !”

The very instant he had the freedom to move, Koko stuck his fingers down his throat and retched it all back up. “[Poison,]” he declared. “We don’t eat anything we don’t cook.”

His victory only lasted a minute. A minute of stunned and confused expressions. Before they strapped him into a chair and force-fed him the same disgusting slop.


	5. Chapter 5

_ Let’s recap _ , thought Lulu. So far, this place was a hell-hole. They took her brother away from her. Let her go naked in a dark hole. Warded her against magic. Put her in some garment that she  _ knew _ she had to be allergic to. And now they were force-feeding her something that even Gunther from Monty’s circus wouldn’t be proud of. Expected her to be grateful for it.

She had sores from being strapped in the chair until her hated stomach contents went beyond her ability to vomit.  She had a rash from their clothing. Her ears hurt so much that she half expected them to fall off.

And now they were taking her blood.

They had her strapped down, of course. A cleric tapped her veins for a phial of blood and healed the minor wound on her arm.

And then something weird happened. The cleric spoke Gutter Elven. “Things will be easier if you don’t fight them.”

Lulu responded in kind. “I will fight until I die to get my brother back.”

Another cleric came in and inspected the marks that Lulu knew were growing up around her neck and jaw. They called it Blight, or the Sickness. But what it was… were striations caused by toxins building up in the Elfin body. Toxins that were usually purged by sleep or meditation.

Go without too long, and an Elf could descend into madness. Fall into sickness. Or just die.

Gutter Elven was acceptable, here. Apparently. “You have not rested.”

“My brother can’t. Not without me. So I don’t.”

“You will get sick.”

“He’s probably already sick. ‘Specially on the slop you serve us.” Sting. Someone was upset that they didn’t like the food. “Listen. We made our livings cooking for people. We know what good food tastes like. Whatever that was before you started? You haven’t done it any favours.” Sting. “Give us a kitchen. We can  _ show _ you.”

“Kitchens are a level five privilege. You? You are currently at level zero.”

Lulu grinned. “Koko and I were born holding hands. We’ll die together, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

Koko stopped fighting after two weeks. Stopped talking. There was no point in resisting them, they’d just make him do what they wanted. But he would not give them his words.

He couldn’t rest. Meditation avoided his grasp. Sleep tried to steal his mind away, but he jolted out of it every time because the warmth that was always part of his life was gone.

They took his blood. Not all of it. Just a small phial that maybe contained four tablespoons of it.

They asked him questions, but he didn’t answer. Just stared into nothingness and waited. Let his body stay limp and his mind fill with emptiness. They might even tire of dragging him around.

They forced everything on him. Itchy clothes. Alleged food. Round after round after round in the Quiet Room. For not speaking when told to. Some clerics begged him -in Gutter Elf- to let himself rest.

He didn’t say a word. He’d already told them what he needed.

And then. Maybe a month and a half after they’d shaved his head, a vision entered the padded room that he lay in.

Lulu.

Clean and dressed in a simple, white robe. Her hair done up all fancy and her ears decorated with little star-points of jewels. She spoke High Elven. “[Brother… Oh brother, what have you done?]”

She was well-fed, but not over-fed. She was the bloom of health. She was refined and graceful and everything an Elf should be. Her eyes were even behind some green lenses.

A stab of terror pierced him in the heart.

It took Koko a minute to process it, while this Elf gently cradled him and attempted to coax him into at least sleeping.

She didn’t know the song. She didn’t know the right way to brush his aching ears. She didn’t even know the little trick with the fingertips on the nape of his neck that made all his worries vanish. She didn’t know the right way to hold his hand.

He gave them two words. In High Elven. “[Not Lulu.]” And attempted to get away from her in the most action he had performed in a month.

The impostor stood and dropped the disguise. “[There’s a soul bond. The other one wasn’t lying when she said they were born holding hands.]”

A soul bond. But not soulbound. Koko could no more summon Lulu to his side than she could wish him into wherever she was.

“[Will they live without the other?]” said a different voice. The bitch.

“[That’s the problem, honoured elder. They don’t want to. Their soul bond is strong. They’re going to spend the rest of their lives in synchronisation. And… the boy cannot rest without the girl’s presence. Not properly. Not completely.]”

Quiet. Too quiet. But the door was still open, so Koko shifted position just enough to watch them. The cleric was wearing the simple white robe and elaborate hairstyle, but was clearly a Wood Elf. And also clearly young. Not that much older than Koko.

The bitch, on the other hand, was well into her four hundreds. Probably inching up on five hundred. She had likely seen the Xenophobia wars begin. So why was she doing what she was doing to all of these kids?

The bitch looked at Koko. One hand made a warding motion against Witch Eyes. “[I will not let any of these orphans perish,]” she said. “[I will restore the glory of the Elven species. Whelp by whelp.]”

Interesting to know. Koko now had a lever.

Another Elf appeared in the doorway. A Moon Elf. They had a piece of parchment. “[Elder. The results you asked for.]”

But not the results she wanted, according to the look on her face. “[They  _ are _ siblings?]”

“[My pardon, honoured elder, but they do look alike.]”

“[The lesser races would say that about all of us,]” the bitch said to a Moon Elf. If people couldn’t tell a Moon Elf from a Sun Elf on sight, they were likely fucking blind.

“[We have no accommodations for twins of different gender, Honoured Elder.]”

“[It will take some time to make them, too,]” said the bitch. Which only enlarged the target area of her weak spot. She believed she cared for all of these fellow war orphans. She wouldn’t let any die. She believed in decorum. She had not prepared for every kind of twin.

Fuck.

What if she knew Lulu was trans?

No. She couldn’t know everything. She’d said that cutting off the girls from the boys would remove an avenue of sin. She was sheltered. She was heteronormative.

She was going to find out a lot about sin once Koko was allowed to mingle with the other boys.

“[Madam Citron!]”

“[Not in front of the low-levels!]”

Too late. Koko had a name. Names had power.

The newcomer to the scene had another parchment. Drow. “[Forgive me, honoured elder. There are more results.]”

“[Which is which?]”

The Drow looked embarrassed. “[You were so convinced they were lovers, honoured Elder. There were no labels. We… we do not know.]”


	7. Chapter 7

Lulu woke up in a different Soft Room. There were people on either side of her but her eyes were on the scene on the other side of the room.

Three thin, crumpled bodies, ears swollen and blistered. Heads shaven. Identical sores on their bodies from being strapped into the feeding chair. Bedsores from lying inert for hours on end. Lulu knew that her brother was the middle one. The other two were impostors or illusions. As she moved, the two on either side of her moved.

She looked. She had impostors, too. Shaved heads. Sores. Stung ears and all. Lulu glared hate at the one on her right. It was so unnerving to see her own eyes looking back. She kept thinking that they were the wrong way around.

She wanted to hear her brother singsong,  _ I see Lulu. _

Lulu ignored her doppelgangers and took a step towards her fallen brother. The clones did not. And she found out why with a wall of scorching heat in her way.

“[You will stand still and wait,]” said the voice of Queen Bitch.

Elven tongues were acceptable. She’d learned that in time. Lulu refused to use High Elven. Exclusively spoke Gutter Elven. “What are you doing to us?”

“[This is a test,]” said the voice. “[The instructions are written on the wall.]”

Magic runes. In Elven of course. Lulu sighed. “We can’t read Elven.”

“[Then wait and I will give you instruction.]” The magic runes vanished.

Koko startled awake after a minute. He had Blight worse than she did. He took in his duplicates first. Started forward the instant he saw her.

“Koko, uh-uh!”

He froze. Looked around. Saw each of her duplicates and then ignored them. He looked like he was about to speak, but clamped his mouth shut with an audible click.

Koko the loquacious, gone silent? Yeah. She could see the logic in that. They wanted her to speak High Elven, so she maintained Gutter Elven as her only means of communication. Koko refused to communicate at all.

Screw that. Lulu switched to  _ Us _ . “[They let us speak in any Elven tongue.]” And her ears did  _ not _ sting. She found something to laugh at for the first time since they got here. “[Us is an Elven tongue!]”

“[Oh my gods, that is too perfect. You’re a genius!]” His voice was rough with disuse.

And then more magic clamped their mouths tight and silenced their throats. The Bitch Queen appeared in the room. She spoke High Elven, of course. “[Obviously, the ruse is insufficient. I have one question, and if you answer, you may touch.]”

_ This is fucked up, _ thought Lulu.

Koko, glaring at the same person, likely had similar thoughts.

Whatever she wanted to know, she wouldn’t learn it.

“[Which one of you had Raxell’s Complete Sex Change performed?]”

The twins looked each other in the eyes.

Their mouths were free. They didn’t even need to make no-no noises at each other. This was a deadly secret. Though Raxell had said that it was permanent, someone could possibly make it go the other way. Plunge Lulu into abject misery by giving back her dick.

Lulu, who had experienced that pain, knew that Koko wouldn’t betray her. She’d seen Koko’s face as she fell apart and dived into the thin succour of ‘lion, fluff, and their brief oblivions. Besides, he was already not talking.

Both of them crossed their arms at the same time. Both turned their witch eyes to the Bitch Queen in eerie synchronisation. Looked her in the eye. And said nothing.

She faltered a little under their gaze. Her hand flinched for a pocket that Lulu just  _ knew _ contained some glasses stained in a random colour. It took her some supreme effort to regain the appearance of controlled patience.

“[We are Elves,]” she ranted. “[The superior race! We do not deserve to be grubbing in garbage or smoking weeds in the streets! We do not deserve the deprivations thrust upon us by the weaker kind!]”

Lulu went for the opening. In High Elven. “[Do we deserve the deprivations thrust on us by  _ you _ ?]”

It didn’t hit her as much as she thought it would. “[Oh, my children. If only you could understand what I’m trying to accomplish. I’m taking your raw and adulterated clay and moulding you into perfect beings. I’m purging your imperfections. I’m making you into better people.]”

Better people didn’t tear children away from the only family they knew. Better people didn’t lock children in dark rooms. Better people didn’t force children to eat something an  _ Otyugh _ would spit out, nor strap them in chairs until they could no longer purge such filth from their bodies. Better people would recognise when a child was allergic to a fabric and change things up.

Better people were not racist fucks.

Lulu looked at Koko. He matched her sullen expression.

He was right. It was pointless to argue with this maniac. Better to not say anything at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Hours had gone by. Their stomachs rumbled like thunder. Citron quietly fumed. She had to stay to hear their answer, and neither of them were talking, now. It was a stalemate.

Of course, she had no experience with having to stay silent for hours on end, so she filled the dead air with arguments. Reasoning. Bargaining.

“[Isn’t this what you want? To be re-united with your sister?]”

Koko pressed his fist into his belly to silence it. He knew what she was trying. Bait and switch. Hold something out of reach and promise and promise and  _ promise _ , but the bar was always set that one inch higher.

“[Answer my question, and you will have a space together. A place to share.]”

_ Liar, _ thought Koko.

“[It’s so rare that we get real family in here. It’s a treasure, these days.]”

One more thing she could dangle in front of their noses like a carrot on a stick. One more thing she could take away.

“[You will not eat before I have my answer.]”

Hah. Not eating that Otyugh vomit was a  _ blessing. _ Threatening them with the alleged food might have worked. Koko already knew he’d rather starve.

Lulu snorted, the only indication that she dismissed the offer out of hand. They didn’t need to touch and they knew it. Technically, they could probably meditate here and now. Watching over each other as they took turns. But they wouldn’t dare with the bitch present. She could probably torture them about that, too.

Koko knew from looking at his illusion clones that he had Blight worse than his sister. Madness, sickness, or death was waiting around the corner. They told stories about the hideous pain that Blight inflicted in the last moments. Koko had to wonder how anyone knew, since the stories also involved the Elven victim dying alone and miserable.

He figured it was another Orange Story. Something to frighten the unsuspecting. Something to make little kids wet themselves or meditate properly like their parents insisted.

“[One answer. It’s all I need.]”

_ Live with disappointment. _ Koko’s feet hurt, despite the padded flooring. He leaned on the padded wall. Tried to ignore his stomach’s snarling. He’d done it before. He could do it again. The fact that his meals had been regular -if horrible- did nothing. He’d been hungry. Going hungry again was nothing new.

“[You can end your own suffering.]”

Lulu joined him in leaning against the wall. He gained strength from her presence. But it wasn’t enough. He was so… so damned tired… Every time he blinked, it seemed to last longer.

And longer.

He woke up with a start as his butt hit the padded floor. But there was no stinging in his ears. The bitch didn’t care about formalities.

Koko wondered how many other of her rules he could break. How many were arbitrary? How many were conveniences in the now?

He already knew that she wasn’t going to let them die. He wondered how much torture she was willing to witness first-hand.

Lulu, watching him, startled as she realised what he was thinking “Koko, mm-mm.”

He spoke in  _ Us. _ “[I’m tired of this shit.]” All he needed was enough energy for a sprint. Bull through the pain. Get to his sister anyway.

She was quicker. Launched herself through the barrier of fire, and another of sharp sparks that snapped all over her body.

He was a beat behind. It burned. It seared. It sent stabbing, jagged pain through every nerve.

And their hands clapped together like they did for the trapeze. Palm to wrist. Gripping each other tight. And smiling at each other. Pain or not, they had won.


	9. Chapter 9

If anything at all, Lulu wished she had crossed all the barriers to get to Koko. She vividly remembered what he’d been through for her. Watching that squirming, struggling mass of angry thorns coming out of him. Soaked in his blood. Hearing it scream as Wizard Raxell put it in a jar for study.

Koko had kept all that pain from her. Because seeing her free of her pain was more important.

He’d put up with so much. Suffered so much. Just to help her. And Lulu wanted above all to pay that back, somehow. To suffer for him so that the cosmic scales would be balanced. So they’d be even.

They were going to die here, and Koko would always be the noble one.

The pain stopped. Shut off like a sluice gate closing. And the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Then Queen Bitch spoke. “[What could I possibly do to gain your trust?]”

“[Give freedom!]” Koko said in High Elven. “[One answer. Ha!]”

“[Now what?]” said Lulu. “[More promises to break?]”

She stepped over them. Left them alone together in this padded room.

Almost reflexively, the twins reeled each other in for an extended hug. They returned to  _ Us _ .

“[I’m real fuckin’ tired,]” whispered Koko.

“[So sleep.]”

“[Can’t. Scared you won’t be there when I wake up.]”

Yeah. That tracked. This place was a funhouse of their worst nightmares. But he really needed to rest or the Blight would destroy what remained of his mind. Lulu began humming the lullaby. Petted his hair. Stubble. She daren’t touch his ears, they looked like pork crackling, only more prone to weeping weird liquid.

Worked her fingertips into the nape of his neck and ran them into little patterns, there. Rocked him gently.

His grip on her went slack. He began to snore.

Lulu watched the door. She didn’t know what she would do if anyone barged in, but she would at least put up all the fight she could. For as long as she had breath.


	10. Chapter 10

Discomfort woke him before he could rest all the way. But Lulu was still there. He smiled as he held her. “[Your turn,]” he told her.

She put her ruined ear to his heart. He cradled her. Smoothed her down from shoulder to hip. Ran his fingers over her stubble from crown to brow.

And glared murder at the door as her grip slackened and her breathing steadied out. She was pointy, and heavy, and the circulation in one leg was going to get cut off in the fullness of time, but Koko didn’t care.

Lulu was the only being in this wide, cruel world that he could trust, and he was going to hold her close. He would die before he willingly let her go again.

But there was nothing. No threat from outside this room. No Citron the Bitch coming to torment them. No alleged food, either. Which Koko considered a bonus.

He let himself daydream. Composing a menu in his head. If he could wish himself free, and in a kitchen with all the trimmings and all the ingredients he could want…

He murmured Gutter Elven in a soothing tone. “I’d start with those cinnamon apple pancakes Torruq made us. Swimming in butter and honey. Maybe a side of Aunty Ques’ aromatic porridge. Definitely a side of that. With the cranberries she used to soak in maple wine. And then a fluffy omelette with garlic mushrooms and fried green tomatoes with rosemary and thyme.” Gods, he could almost taste the flavours. “And slices of that spicy sausage from Aeldorel, fried in lard, of course, so it’s all crispy. And a salad with those leaves you tried to smoke once, The little pointy ones. They tasted better as food. Definitely with quartered cherry tomatoes and cos lettuce and those purple onions… diced. And olives. Yes. And just a drizzle of avocado oil…. And those salty little fish from Seafood Bay.”

He could see it. He could smell it. An imaginary banquet that would, of course, include Lup’s favourite turkey. Stuffed with aromatic rice and tiny cubes of bacon and pork belly and herbs and spices and vegetables.

Koko flinched when his stomach roared.

Lulu already had her eyes open. “What’s for dessert?”

“Of course I’d make elderflower macaroons. And a nice custard out of all the leftover egg yolks. Oh! And a jelly. Lots of jellies. Strawberry and cranberry and blueberry. And a sponge roll with the sweet cream made out of butter, and some jam in there. Raspberry. And a flan, of course. But if I’m making a flan, I’d have to whip us up a meringue. A huge one. And maybe top it with whipped cream and an assortment of tart fruit…”

The door slammed open. The twins jumped. Clung to each other.

It was Citron the Bitch. “[You two are driving me mad with hunger! Can you even cook those things?]”

Koko clamped his mouth shut.

Lulu spoke Gutter Elf. “Give us a kitchen and we will show you.”

The look on her face was priceless.


	11. Chapter 11

They were force fed, but this time they were strapped into chairs next to each other. In an empty room with bare stone walls and a chalkboard in their line of sight. Their arms were free below the elbows, and their heads were strapped back so that they couldn’t force themselves to throw up.

Koko was to her right. Which already felt unnatural. She could just see him out of the corner of her eye.

“[What game is this?]” he said in  _ Us. _

“[I’m not playing. Gutter Elf or nothing?]”

“[Of course.]”

An attendant came and set up a sort of platform to their chairs. Added a slate and a piece of chalk for each of them. And then left.

Then it was time for Citron the Bitch. “[I insist that every child who enters my doors learns to read,]” she said. “[The two of you have dwelt in ignorance for too long. You will copy each letter. You will learn its name and how it is pronounced. You will--]”

Koko rent the air with a sob. “Just throw me in the hole for the rest of my life. Get it  _ over _ with!”

Lulu sighed. She couldn’t reach her brother to comfort him. Not even if they both reached for each other. They’d still be one last inch out of each other’s grasp. She reached anyway.

Koko remained still. Clinging to the chair arms and weeping. Panicking. Spewing out a jumble of words about how stupid he was and the letters kept tangling up and he’d never live to see the sun again…

Lulu had to raise her voice. Pitch it to carry over his litany of woe and terror. “You took our amber glasses,” she said. “It’s the only way he could even halfway see them straight. We-- [Koko, shush!] We have language-specific dyslexia. They found it when we were in the Church of Oghma in Flanderstone.”

Koko kept whispering, “...just kill me quickly… just kill me quickly…” over and over. He finally let go of the chair to reach for Lulu. Tried to stretch over that last inch. Knowing that all the strap chairs were bolted to the floor.

Citron the Bitch left the room in a hurry.

“...’m sorry,” Koko bleated. “I’m too stupid. They’re gonna make me leave you alone. Forev--” his voice failed him.

“You are  _ not _ stupid,” she insisted. “They just don’t get how you think. They’re the stupid ones, not even trying to ask if our eyes played tricks on us. They’re trying to squeeze us into… like… a sausage case they made for… Idunno. Their idea of a perfect Elf. They didn’t want to know what we’re like. They just want to make us  _ that _ .”

They fell silent as one of the white-robed clerics entered. Well. Lulu fell silent. Koko kept crying and murmuring variations of, “Get it over with.”

Lulu watched as she wrote some Elven on the board, and readied a series of cardboard frames with differently-colored cellophane stretched within the rectangles. Lulu switched to  _ Us. _ “[Hush, brother. I think they might be helping for a change.]”

“[Horseshit,]” he objected. “[They only hurt us here.]” And then he went back to hopeless tears.

Their years on the road had lead him to have a pessimistic view of life, the world, and any kind of hope. She’d had to hope for the both of them for just as long. And it really sucked that he was right more often than she was.

But every day, Lulu swore, Koko got up because she kept hoping. And every day, she needed him to warn her of everything that could possibly go wrong. Maybe between them, they could make one rational-minded Elf. And even that was slipping, in here.

The cleric approached Lulu with her cards.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!”

Case in point. The cleric showed Koko the cards. “These are just cardboard and cellophane. They won’t hurt anyone. I’m just going to see what colours stop the sigils moving.”

Buttercup yellow. Lulu was used to this. She could make the letters sit still if she shut one eye.

“Both eyes open, please,” said the cleric. “Tell me which is better…” different shades of yellow and orange. Associated with numbers.

On the exact shade of amber that matched her left eye, the sigils stood stock still. “That one!” Lulu crowed. “That one works! They’re really staying still!”

“Very good,” cooed the cleric. He still had to cast Calm Emotion on Koko, and dry his eyes. All the while singing, “There now. There now,” as if calming a fussy baby. “Just tell me if the sigils are dancing.” She went through all the shades of yellow. Some shades of green. Blue.

It was when she reached shades of red that Koko finally gave off warbling, “I’m too stupid,” and gasped.

“Are they staying still?”

“They’re shivering, but I can see them. They’re not moving around like they used to.”

Lulu waited. They were getting close. They went through blood red to cinnamon, and finally hit into the pinks.

“That’s it! That’s it! They’re still. They’re not even trembling. No bending, no flipping… it’s all still.”

“Amber for the girl, and rose quartz for the boy,” said the cleric. She jotted that down in a book and left the room again.

“[Could’a told them,]” Lulu said in  _ Us. _ “[You sorely need a pair of rose-coloured glasses.]”

He giggled. “[And you need a pissier view of the world.]”

Laughter. After so much misery and pain, they needed something to laugh at. They tried to stretch and touch as they were left for what felt like an eternity. Talking about what they were going to eat once they had the freedom to choose their meals.

They were on to the selection of the desserts when Citron the Bitch re-entered and placed a rather ordinary case in front of each of them. It was wooden, and had a simple hinge, and inside were rather hastily fabricated witch-eye glasses. Dyslexia glasses.

Amber for her. Rose quartz for him. Attendants put them on.

“[Behave properly, speak properly, and you will be allowed to keep them for free reading,]” said Citron the Bitch. “[Until then, we will keep them safe for you.]”

Koko’s leg was vibrating. Lulu could sense more than see him pleading to be allowed to keep them. To be able to read.

Lulu sighed. She could give him this. After hearing what he thought about himself because the letters would not behave for his eyes… Lulu said one word in  _ Us. _ “[Okay.]”

The change those glasses made was astounding. Koko tore through the Elven alphabet like he was possessed. Guessed correct spellings nine times out of ten. Guessed pronunciations ninety-nine times out of one hundred. Tried and tried and  _ tried _ at proper, adult, High Elf Grammar so hard that even Citron the Bitch could see that he was breaking his heart just to get there.

But they would not say the words for ‘honoured elder’. They didn’t honour Citron the Bitch. In fact, they only barely tolerated her because she gave them the glasses.

Lulu didn’t spend as much effort at it as Koko did. By the end of their first lesson, she was still reading at the first level while Koko powered ahead to the fifth.

And then Citron the Bitch nearly ruined it. “[You are both doing so well. If you could just learn terms of respect, you could elevate yourselves to level six.]”

Koko fell back to using Gutter Elven, more because he was exhausted than through any intent to spite her. “Don’t care about any of that,” he said. “Just let me  _ cook _ for everyone. I would literally  _ die _ just to have some actual, real, decent  _ food. _ Something  _ edible, _ for a change.”

“From your lips to Oghma’s ears,” chirped Lulu, definitely to spite her. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give for Aunty Ques’ porridge…”

Both twins sighed at the memory. And then their ears stung.

“[We do not mention the names of the dead.]”

Koko, who had been meek as milk since he got the glasses, snapped. “Memala, our mother. Quesadilla, our aunt. Enchilada, our uncle, Tortilla our other uncle. Tre Llew-Ddion, where we were born! They deserve to be remembered! It’s all the history we know! It’s all the history we have! We’re not going to be rootless and nameless. Someone else from there  _ has _ to know who we are!”

Lulu could see the blisters growing on his ears from the magic stings. Well. He wasn’t going down alone. She started chanting, “Memala, Quesadilla, Enchilada, Tortilla, Tre Llew-Ddion!” until the attendants dragged her away into the Quiet Room.

Fuck them.

Fuck superstition.

Fuck this place.

And especially fuck Citron the Bitch Queen of Saint Vingo’s.


	12. Chapter 12

They had shackles on and two burly guards each. One hanging on to each elbow. They were going through a series of plastered corridors that had wood panel floors. There was a general impression that this was a place for Elven reformists who were at a higher level than the twins.

Koko figured that this was some kind of bribe. And he could see he was right when they brought the twins to the destination. All he could think of was the story of how, if you had been truly wicked, they would let you tour Heaven before they chucked you into Hell.

This felt like that.

The kitchen was made out of shaped quartzite. Every surface was glistening. There was all kinds of instruments, but no knives. A guard let go of an elbow to open up the pantry. There was a hotplate large enough to be a bed and an oven big enough to cook four turkeys at once. The pantry was as big as a house. And everything in it was pre-prepared.

Because there were no knives anywhere.

Guards removed their wrist shackles. Took up stations at the only way out. Citron the Bitch’s voice came into their heads. “[You will cook.]”

“[How many are we cooking for?]” asked Koko. He was more inclined to use High Elven since he got to use the rose quartz glasses.

The voice just said, “[You will cook.]”

Koko looked to Lulu.

Lulu stuck to  _ Us _ . “[Let’s just cook everything we can.]”

Brilliant idea. He had to shuffle to get to the pantry, and just brought out ingredients at random. Lulu added herbs to oil on the big hotplate. She was definitely the best fry cook. Koko focussed on the other stuff. They were assuming that they were cooking for hundreds. A veritable host of hungry hordes.

Koko worked on Aunt Ques’ special aromatic porridge. Lulu worked on a spicy dish where fried grains were the centre of the show. Bits and pieces joined based on what she felt at the moment. The air became redolent with delicious scents.

While the porridge was cooking, Koko started on a pie. Two pies. One sweet, the other savory. In rectangular trays big enough to be tables.

The garlic was already squeezed and Koko started another pot with a good helping of that and some pre-chopped meat. Salt, of course. Rosemary. Sage. Onion. He sniffed the vapours as it all began to cook. Quince. Yes. And maybe a bit more--

“[No more garlic,]” chided Lulu in  _ Us, _ without even looking.

Koko blew a raspberry, but kept the extra garlic out of it. Cilantro? Cilantro never hurt.

The smells filled the air. The twins fried and mixed and baked and kneaded and rolled their way through everything they could plausibly make. Until their feet protested. Until their elbows creaked. Until their backs ached.

Until they stood. Sweaty. Spent. Triumphant. With every spare space containing the pinnacles of deliciousness.

There were no bowls small enough for a single serving. No plates. They had tried eating a few things with their hands and had control taken away from them for it. So they waited, bellies growling, as Citron the Bitch finally turned up to inspect their extravaganza.

“[You have cooked nearly everything in my pantry,]” she said.

Well. Yes. They had.

“[You said ‘cook’,]” said Koko in High Elven. “[You never said how much. Or when to stop.]”

And then she said the worst thing she could say. “[Take them back. I need to think about this.]”

Gutter Elven. “Without a bite?”

“Without a taste?” protested Lulu.

And the shackles were on. And the guard was dragging them away.

“[We worked so hard,]” Koko protested in High Elven. “[What’s going to be enough? Where’s the end?]”

He didn’t get an answer. They never learned what happened to all the food they prepared. They were dragged all the way back to the bare, cold stone walls and the dank atmosphere of level one. Lulu to the girls’ section and Koko to the boys’.

Where, for a change, he was thrown into a cell he shared with three other boys, and made to take the bunk nobody wanted. The one right next to the privy hole.

The blanket was three times itchier than the shift he wore. The pillow felt like it was made out of lead. Koko lay down. Stared at nothing. Did not rest.

Everything good got taken away.

Everything worthwhile got stolen.

What was the point of bothering to try?


	13. Chapter 13

Voices edged into her hearing. Gutter Elven. “We got a new girl in the night.”

“Not a new girl. She’s been here since summer. She’s the one who’s always in the box. Or the feeding chair.”

“By the Mother. Look at her ears.”

“Sweet Istus… She must have put up a lot of a fight.”

“Ouch. Her  _ skin. _ What did they  _ do _ to her?”

Lulu put in just enough energy to look at her arm. It looked like she’d been burned, then had the burns treated with salt. And then caught some kind of pox. There were three girls clustered around her. Drow, Moon, and Wood Elves.

“Hey, sunshine,” said the leader, a diminutive Drow. “I know this is a stupid question, but… are you going to be okay?”

Lulu said, “They took everything. Even hope.”

The Wood Elf spoke. “They won’t take mine. Today, I am alive.” It was an oath. An affirmation. “And I intend to stay that way.”

Lulu said, “Citron won’t kill us. She’ll just make us wish we were dead.”

The Moon Elf said, “That’s the Queen’s name?”

Lulu said, “Yup. My brother heard it. He told me.”

All three girls winced. The Drow girl said, “Oh Gods, she has family here,” in the same way that one might diagnose a fatal illness.

Lulu said, “My twin.”

More verbal wincing. The Wood Elf said, “They’re going to make us go out of the cells, soon. Can you walk? Does it hurt to be touched?”

Lulu tried to get up. Any pressure on her skin made it feel like a million ants were running all over her. “It itches.”

The Drow and the Moon Elf helped her. One under each elbow. “You can lean on us.”

Lulu said, “You don’t care that I’m witch-eyed?”

The Drow girl laughed. “I’m supposed to be evil. Same with Cester,” she pointed to the Moon Elf. “I’m Sol, that’s Kolok. You got a name?”

Lulu said, “Lulu.” And, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us yet, we still have to eat breakfast,” said Cester. “Guess you know ‘bout that.”

“Is it Otyugh vomit again?”

“She knows about it,” said Kolok.

Her entire skin felt raw. It was lumpy with blisters and welts all over. It was hard to move without pain. Her feet were searing agony. “Wonder if it’s good as a salve...”

There was a gigantic hall with wooden benches, and a long queue of other girls. Lining up for trenchers and spoons and Otyugh vomit. The idea of lining up for this stuff on aching feet with searing skin was an insult.

“This is so unfair,” Lulu whined. “We cooked a banquet, yesterday… I’m not eating that shit…”

“No way, you cook?”

“Me an’ my bro, yeah… I did a huge quick-fry, he did pies. There were apple cinnamon pancakes and special porridge and a casserole, and... “ she sighed. Wept. “We cooked everything we could get our hands on and we didn’t even get one bite.”

Sol hissed in sympathy. “Oof… Sounds like they were trying to get to you, big time.”

“...think I’m allergic to the fabrics,” murmured Lulu. “My whole skin is  _ crawling. _ ”

“Listen,” whispered Cester. “You can’t let them get you. This whole thing is another trick to break you.”

“Otyugh vomit will kill me,” Lulu vowed.

Girls in front of them in the queue let them limp ahead. Lulu in between Sol and Kolok, Cester trailing behind. Girls were tapping oblivious girls on the shoulder and indicating Lulu as walking wounded.

“Just eat it anyway,” said Kolok. “You know they’ll just force feed it to you.”

“And lock you in the chair until you can’t upchuck,” added Sol. “I think they only let you loose because of all the sores.”

“I’ll take that chance. They know I know good food. And I don’t really care. Let ‘em get off on my suffering.”

The four of them got plates. Lulu had to lean on the counter to get a full plate. Then she deliberately flipped the plate full of slop over her scratchy dress, her legs, and the floor. It was lukewarm.

She looked her server in the eye and said, “Oops,” without meaning it.

The rest of her friends tipped theirs in solidarity. Unanimously. And also with insincere noises of mistakes made. They didn’t run. Just limped away from the queue as others in it made up their minds about what they were willing to put up with.

“Not this” seemed to be a unanimous agreement.

Citron couldn’t possibly punish all of them at once.


	14. Chapter 14

She could, however, punish the ringleader.

They were gathered in separate courtyards. All the level ones. Koko held up by his new adopted brothers, Dangi and Moch. He had not been much for talking, moving, or having the energy to protest. When the servers handed him the usual slop, he’d just cried and refused to lift his spoon.

And then the riot had broken out in the level one girls’ ward. And everyone was hit with a paralysis spell.

There was a raised platform. High above any of the level one kids’ heads. But not so high that they couldn’t see Citron the Bitch on there. And one very slight figure strapped to a large X. She was naked, and covered all over in various severities of rash.

Koko knew in an instant it was Lulu.

“[Disobedience will not be tolerated,]” said Citron. “[I have given you so much. A safe haven from persecution. Shelter against the storm. Regular, nutritious food.]”

Lulu had to have been hit with her silence spell. She would have said something about Otyugh vomit otherwise. Or protested about the good food they’d made together. Miles better than the slop that made Koko cry.

“[And yet some of you,]” Citron indicated Lulu on the X. “[Insist on fighting against it. They don’t  _ want _ to be proper Elves.]”

_ Not much motivation, _ thought Koko.

“[There must be too much bad blood miscegenating this… bad apple. Let’s let some out.]” A gesture, and there was a bright red stripe across Lulu’s belly. Just a thin line. But barely a trickle of blood spilled.

Lulu didn’t make a sound. Not even a tiny grunt. Stripe after stripe cut her. Her arms. Her legs. Her face.

“NO!” Koko stumbled forward. “Stop it! STOP IT!”

She didn’t. Deliberately making another cut. Shallow cuts. So that they’d hurt more. And maybe even scar. “[Anyone willing to take her place?]” asked Citron. “[Besides her mangy brother, of course.]”

“[I would,]” said a boys’ voice.

Koko knew it, but he never expected to hear it again. Karz. From Tirellari.

“[I would,]” said a chorus of girls.

A rabble of volunteers sprang up all around both courtyards.

Koko went that inch further, attempting to climb the stone walls to get up there and at least get to his sister.

And it would have been a touching scene, were it not for the spell that blacked out their world in pain.


	15. Chapter 15

Someone must have healed her. After feeling so shitty for so long, it was like stepping into hot springs in midwinter. The bed was soft. The sheets were so smooth and crisp… She even had a fresh, linen nightdress on.

She opened her eyes. It was a bedroom for someone who had never lived in a house. It was decor. The sort of thing seen only in fantasy glossy magazines to show off how the rich people lived. Or how designers put things together to make anyone afraid to actually live in there.

The smell of hot and delicious food perfumed the air.

She knew it was fake when she felt her hair. It was long, and elaborately braided. There were no scars on her and she only felt vaguely hungry. Like she could eat, but she had the luxury of being picky about what she ate.

“[Fuck this,]” she said in High Elven. Her ears stung. “[And fuck you. I won’t be bribed!]”

The illusion of food was her own goddamn cooking!

“[This would be three days old and rotten by now.]” She tried to flip the table.

The illusion broke. She was standing by one of the bolted-down tables in the cafeteria. Every plate was full of the sour slop she thought of as Otyugh vomit. And there, opposite her, was Citron the Bitch.

“[It was not a bribe,]” said Citron. “[I was showing you your ultimate goal. What you can achieve if you just learn to behave.]”

“Behave like you?” Lulu was talking in Gutter Elven. She had always been talking in Gutter Elven.

“[Yes. Ideally.]”

“Lock children in dark rooms until they scream themselves hoarse. Strap them into hard chairs so that they can’t move and they get sores. Hurt their ears so much that they blister up like crackling. Feed them food so foul that even an Otyugh wouldn’t touch it. Make them work so hard and so long that their joints creak, on the promise of a decent meal… and then throw them back into a scratchy hell so that their skin looks ready to fall off? All because they wouldn’t use a title you don’t deserve? That’s behaving?”

“[That is discipline. Something you and your brother sorely need. You are wild creatures in need of taming.]” She looked so calm. So unflappable. “[You pay me respect, and you will earn respect in turn.]”

High Elven gave her away. Lulu laughed. “You think I’m stupid. You think I didn’t hear that,” she cackled. “You used two different forms of ‘respect’.”

Her face, very briefly, was readable. And it said,  _ Oh fuck. _

Lulu translated it into Gutter Elven. “Respect in the first case was paying you deference due to your higher status. Like a commoner to a royal. Respect in the second case is the simple respect of treating another like a thinking being with feelings. So I treat you like royalty and you treat me like an Elven being. Doesn’t sound like a fair exchange to me. Not for illusions and a dark hole and fucking filth instead of food.” She would have ranted further, but Lulu realised what had stopped. Her ears were not stinging any more.

She’d uttered a curse and her ears didn’t sting.

“What are you trying now?”

Citron summoned a book and opened it to a silk bookmark. She read, “[During the spring of that year, a set of twins came to my door. Vagabonds and outcasts of the wars. Identical in almost every aspect, save that one needed my skills and the other did not. I found it a most fascinating case, given the extreme circumstances in which they eked out an existence, and the fact that they had saved enough gemstones for the spell.]”

Lulu concentrated on keeping her short hair inert. She couldn’t let this bitch know that she’d found them. And she thanked Oghma that Raxell had kept their identities secret.

Citron read on. “[The twins arrived to me at the age of eighteen, and later questioning had revealed that one had known their true nature at the age of ten. But the most startling aspect of the case was what the other endured to secure the necessary fortune. For that was the season of the serial rapist known to the press as Whoresbane.]” Citron smiled at her. “[I heard about him. Penetrating Thorns. Sometimes, Poison Penetrating Thorns. On top of the rape. The book goes on to detail how one twin hid their suffering until the other’s had ended.]”

“Heartwarming,” said Lulu. Trying to remain an island of calm in a sea of her own emotional turmoil. “Do they meet a handsome prince and live happily ever after?”

“[The point is… I know it’s the two of you. The facts match up. One of you was changed. The other was not. Both of you are willing to undergo extreme amounts of suffering. Both of you have personality traits that Raxell was kind enough to document. Therefore, in your special case, I have altered the conditions of the spells surrounding you.]”

Lulu could feel what was coming. “You’re making my brother suffer for my sins.”

A smile. “[I do like clever children. So much potential, in spite of the trouble they are wont to cause.]”

She was also clever enough to realise the bait and switch. “I don’t think you’re really doing it. I think you’re making me  _ think _ you’re doing it just so I’ll behave for you.”

“[Then do as you will, and see the consequences.]”

Attendants took Lulu away to a bare room where they bathed her skin in a salve and changed her allergen shift for a non-allergenic one. The sheets and blanket on her bunk were changed out as well.

No more itchy suffering. Just the same treatment as everyone else.

She would learn from her cell mates that the shift had the words ‘special case’ stitched into the back. In Elven, of course. Lulu detailed what she knew. What she could conclude given Citron’s head-games.

“There’s one way to test it, and I know Koko won’t... so… I have to.”

Half an hour before their next remedial lesson, Lulu attempted to punch one of the guards. Square in the face. With her left arm. She knew that her brother was right-handed and this wouldn’t incapacitate him much. Very much.

She froze in mid-air.

The guard, not looking her in the eyes said, “[Your brother now has a broken arm. Our staff will be treating him.]”


	16. Chapter 16

The plaster cast on his left arm was still wet as they dragged him into their remedial class. The sling was cradling it for him before they brought him into the room. He’d been told about his ‘special status’ and what his misbehaviour would mean for Lulu. So he’d been as meek as milk thereafter.

In fact, he’d been in the middle of attempting to force himself to eat that slop when his left arm snapped without warning. He remembered screaming. Finding out that clutching at it made it hurt worse. Falling onto the ground as maybe two hundred other Elven boys stared in shock and horror.

Being levitated away to get his arm set, but not healed.

Healers were a level two privilege.

So there he was. Still sick with shock. Arm in plaster and a sling. Propped up by an attendant. And there came Lulu. Whole. Her ears were in the process of healing. His weren’t.

And there was Citron. Looking like the cat who’d found a mouse in the cream.

He knew who was really to blame, but he daren’t say anything out loud. And neither did Lulu.

The chairs didn’t have straps, this time.

Koko stayed where he was when the attendant let them go. Lulu also remained still. Hardly daring to breathe. Knowing that they were at the whim and thin mercy of a tyrant who imagined herself their saviour.

“[You may embrace.]”

They collided in the middle. Lulu was careful of his ears, and spoke in  _ Us. _ In a rushed whisper. “[I’m sorry. I had to test it in a way they couldn’t fake. It’s really broken, right?]”

He returned the favour. “[Snapped right in half. I know. It’s not you, it’s  _ her. _ She’s the one doing this to us. Don’t forget that, okay?]”

“[I didn’t want it to be real,]” she said, breaking down into tears. “[I won’t hurt you again.]”

“[You won’t get  _ her _ to hurt us again,]” Koko corrected. “[And neither will I.]”

“[Sit,]” commanded Citron the Bitch in High Elven. “[In your appointed seats.]”

He could sense Lulu’s burning rage. If they somehow managed to earn their magic back, this place was going to go up with his sister like a volcano. They put on their reading glasses in unison. Picked up their chalk and readied their slates in sync. And shared a Look.

It said,  _ This is rough and I know it. But we’re still besties, right? We’re going to find a way around this. Right? _

“[You will speak in High Elven,]” said Citron. “[And you will pay respect to me.]”

The mutual Look said,  _ Yeah. maybe in a wooden coin. _

The lesson went… reasonably well. Initially. Lulu was actually trying at literacy, and sticking strictly to the exact letter of what she was told to do. Citron accepted her saying ‘elder’ at first, but about halfway through…

“[You will call me ‘honoured elder’,]” she insisted. “[Say, ‘yes, honoured elder’.]”

Lulu was trembling. Wan. Looking like she was about to upchuck. Her ears were down and what there was of her hair was in the tightest curls Koko had ever seen.

“[Five,]” said Citron. “[Four…]”

“[Yes, hon--]” and then Lulu threw up. That did it. The bitch had literally made his sister sick with her fuckery. And the Otyugh vomit didn’t smell any different for being regurgitated.

Koko stared at the slick of slimy stuff. Took in the shocked expression of his sister. Found rage and offense in the eyes of Citron. And hurried to defend his family. “[That was not on purpose, hon--]” and the same affliction struck him.

So hard that some of it came up and out through his nose.

Thinking of Citron as honoured literally made them both sick.


	17. Chapter 17

The Soft Room was peaceful, at least. It let the twins rest together, just as they had since they were twelve. Taking turns. One hour at a time. It took twice as long as it would if they meditated together, of course, but they didn’t trust this place enough to meditate together.

Citron seemed perfectly willing to let them. And it was time that they had to calm down. To separate themselves from the horrors of Saint Vingo’s. And they had half an hour of just holding each other before those horrors began anew.

“[I can’t say it,]” Lup told Koko in  _ Us. _ “[I literally can’t say it.]”

“[I know. Neither can I.]”

“[There has to be a way, I can’t stand another day on Otyugh vomit…]”

“[She’s no honoured Elder,]” said Koko. “[She’s a dishonoured elder.]”

Lulu kissed him. “[Koko, you’re a genius.]”

Koko stared at her. “[Keep me in suspense, sis.]”

“[We  _ say _ the honour. But we  _ think _ the anti-honour part.]”

“[Worth a shot. She might have magic to stop that.]”

And the door opened, and there was Citron the Bitch Queen. Lulu spoke fast. High Elven. “Please,”  _ dis _ , “honoured elder. We cannot stand the suffering any more…” The sick feeling was still there, but she could get the words out without retching too hard.

And suddenly, she was a picture of benevolence. “Oh, my children,” she cooed. “Well done. You have finally graduated to level two.”

“You… said earlier… we could get to level six,” Lulu could almost hear Koko thinking,  _ dis, _ “honoured elder.”

She knelt. Gripped Koko’s head and stared him down. “Darling. You have a way of thinking of me that is not easily overcome. Especially overnight. When you say ‘honoured elder’ and mean it, that is when you graduate to level six.”

Koko was hyperventilating. Gibbering a little bit.

Citron petted his hair. “There, now. There’s no need to be afraid, my child. You are becoming a beautiful butterfly. It’s going to be much better, now.”

Koko’s teeth were chattering by the time Citron let go. He flailed out. Seeking comfort.

Lulu caught his hand, and he gripped tight.

“You will follow,” Citron said from the door.

The twins looked to each other. What choice did they have? They clung to each other, for reassurance, as well as because time to touch was so rare. Lulu was well aware that both of them were trembling as they walked.

Through a dark hallway. Up a staircase that, once they were in the light again, changed from bare stone to simple plastered walls. Their bare feet could feel a light rug between themselves and the stone.

There were attendants in some antechambers at the other side of the stairs. One cast healing on Koko’s broken arm. Another sundered the cast and a third removed the sling.

And they were separated again. Lulu was taken into a bath and not allowed to wash herself. A healer took care of the remaining blisters on her ears. And there was simple cotton underwear and a slightly ornate dress with frills at the short sleeves. After all the time at level one with a plain shift and no underwear, it felt… weird.

And yet, she was incredibly glad to have breast bags on again.

The only drawback was that this particular dress was like a night dress that she might have worn at four years old or younger. The last time they had new clothes, come to think of it.

“Welcome to your new beginning,” said an attendant.

They combed her hair. Put simple booties on her feet. They were soft and warm, but not much protection against anything sharp. And then the attendants ushered her through another door.

There was a crowd on the other side, all in simple white dresses in the same style. All lined up around a cake with two lit candles.

“Congratulations!” they all chorused in High Elven. And they sang a variant of the Elven birthday song. The words had been altered to fit Citron’s heavily disturbing world view.

Lulu couldn’t tell if they were being sincere. It made her sick to her stomach.

The girls gathered around Lulu as they were singing. Ushered her towards the cake and sat her down before it. Lulu could feel her ears solidly remaining back and down. This was a trick. This was a trap. This cake would taste like Otyugh flesh or old boots or worse.

“Blow out the candles,” enthused one of the girls She was a Desert Elf and much younger than Lulu. “It’s the only time we get cake.”

Lulu could barely breathe. She was freaking out. The world closed in to a tunnel. Started to fill in with a grey haze.

“Breathe,” commanded Citron’s voice in her head. “Do not disappoint them.”

Lulu was crying. Shaking. Shuddering. Just about to vomit from pure stress, but she made her ragged breaths extinguish the candles.

It did not explode, but it did spontaneously divide into equal portions.

Lulu felt her knees give way. Felt someone catch her. Felt arms around her. Not restraining, just supporting.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We all went through level one. We know what it’s like. The bad times are over now. You’re allowed to celebrate. It’s all right, now.”

_ It’s all wrong, _ thought Lulu.  _ This stinks. This stinks so bad. _ Aloud, she said, “It’s another trick. It’s another lie.The cake is a lie. It’s a lie. It’s a lie.”

“It’s real cake,” said a young Swamp Elf of maybe thirteen. “My sister’s level ten and she gets to visit me. They make it for us. And… higher levels. It’s real cake.” She pressed it into Lulu’s hand. “It’s good.”

It was a bland sponge. With ersatz cream. Vegetable oil and maple sugar, no matter how well whipped, still tasted like vegetable oil and maple sugar. Lulu picked at it, because it was better than the Otyugh vomit of level one.

All she could think of was the gateaux that her brother had made on the one day they had been allowed to cook. With real chocolate and cherry conserve and cream whipped with vanilla and honey…

These other girls probably didn’t know what real cake was.


	18. Chapter 18

Koko didn’t accept change as well as Lulu did. He flinched at every gentle touch of the sponge as they bathed him. Yelped at the touch of each new garment. Tried to defend himself from the comb.

They had him in nightwear. Frilly knickerbocker-style pants and a matching shirt. He hadn’t worn anything like it since he was four. Plain and white and childish. But he was terrified anyway. Waiting for the pit to open up under his feet. Waiting for the horrors to commence.

He ducked and covered when the boys waiting on the other side of the door yelled, “Congratulations!” in High Elven. He didn’t even see the cake until gentle hands soothed his fears away.

And spent a few seconds trying to hold his stomach still before he finally summoned the will to blow out the candles.

He fainted dead away when the cake spontaneously divided.

He was laid out on something soft. Someone was smoothing his hair. Brushing it into an arrangement with gentle fingers. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. Come on. Come on back to us.”

Koko opened his eyes slowly. There was an Elven boy seated nearby. A Sea Elf or a Beach Elf, it was hard to tell.

“Hey. Hi there. I got witch eyes, too. So it’s cool.” One was blue. One was violet. He gestured with a plate. “I saved you your slice.”

Plate. Spoon. Food. Koko could maybe handle food. He decided to see if he could handle sitting up. His stomach wasn’t nearly as rambunctious as it had been earlier. “Thanks. I’m Koko.”

“Suke,” said the stranger. He watched Koko’s hair. “Your twin still kicking?”

“She’s in the girls’ ward.” Koko tried a small sample of the cake. Eesh. Needed more something. Flavour. And that was definitely not real cream. Someone must’ve whipped their elbows off for it, but it was clearly vegetable oil and maple sugar. His stomach woke up and snarled at him to eat faster. “Are we roomies, m’man?”

“Naw. We’re neighbours. Privacy’s one of the many benefits of level two. Let’s see. Uh. Privacy, free reading time, um. A flushing privy,” he gestured at the tiny little closet in a discreet corner. “They wash you and brush your teeth, but it’s communal. Uh. Cake whenever there’s a graduate coming up. The food’s real? Uh. But. It’s real simple. Like. We don’t get knives, yet, so everything’s fork or spoon food.”

“Long as it ain’t Otyugh vomit, I’m not complaining yet,” said Koko. The cake was now rapidly vanishing. Ersatz cream and lack of flavour be damned. He’d learned a long time ago to get what’s good.

And speaking of good… Koko assessed his neighbour. Young, of course. Probably mid-twenties or so. The pinkish hair was interesting. As was the green-blue tint to his skin. Yeah. He could definitely get comfy next to  _ that _ boy. “Listen. Do you like dudes? Like… to cuddle and kiss and stuff?”

Suke blinked. “On your first day up? Really?”

“Grab what’s good and get goin’,” Koko shrugged. “You remember, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “But. You know. Witch-eyed. Not a lot of chances for the romances.”

“I’m right here,” offered Koko. He held his hand out now that he’d finished the sorry excuse for cake. “We could try it.”

Suke took the invitation. Moved the plate to the chair as he sat beside Koko. “I’ve… I’ve never… kissed. Anyone. Ever.”

“I have,” purred Koko. He started at Suke’s cheek as they held hands. He tasted of ocean spray and felt like warm sunshine. By the time he kissed his way to Suke’s lips, they were smiling.

His lips were soft and warm and salty and Koko could feel his heart thundering in his chest. This could work. This could really work. They had a thing to bond over and--

“Ow!” Suke shrank away. Holding his ear, which was starting to blister.

Koko blinked. His ears hadn’t-- Oh shit. Oh no. Oh shit, no. He shrank in on himself, already weeping, “I’m sorry, Lulu… Oh gods, I’m so sorry…”

“Your ears aren’t hurt,” said Suke.

“No,” said Koko, his voice dead. “When I’m bad, they hurt my sister.”

They looked into each other’s mismatched eyes in horror and sorrow. They had all gone through level one. They knew what it was like, down there. “I’m sorry,” said Suke.

Koko kept staring at the new blisters on Suke’s ears. “Me too.”


	19. Chapter 19

There were new rules on level two. Other girls briefed her. She had to have posture and walk in a certain way. And comb her hair. Which was barely an inch long when she focussed on it remaining straight.

Table manners were important. Sit just so. Hold the spoon like this. Eat like that. It was plain fare, too. Blank porridge with neither salt nor honey. Creamed vegetables. Salad. Pulled meat on Sundays, but it hadn’t been dressed with a single herb.

And services for Ao. Also on Sundays.

She and Koko had spent some time with a priest of Ao when they were fresh onto the road. He was kind enough. The congregation he lead… wasn’t. Therefore, she could sing along with most of the hymns and knew when to rise, sit, or kneel.

The sermons were all about purity. The wages of sin. How Elves were once a great race that nurtured the others into their disparate societies. How they were benevolent rulers in the glory days…

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

Lulu tuned out for the most part. These were not words for her. This was not her day.

Every Monday was her day. A day of rest and comfort with her brother. A day to ease the Blight and touch base. A day to check each other’s ears and apologise and figure out which rules they’d broken and when.

They’d often fall asleep in each other’s arms, only to be jolted awake and ordered to meditate. Properly. Like real Elves. Which did nothing for their nerves. And neither did finding out the more subtle rules by trial and error.

Every Monday, Koko looked worse and worse. The stress was getting to him. The worry that he’d see a new blister on her ears or see her smile falter because he’d earned some from her misdeeds.

Neither of them could call Citron ‘honoured elder’ without throwing up. They had a work-around, sure, but it was not one that satisfied  _ her. _ She knew they didn’t mean it. There had to be a tell. There had to be something.

The twins still had  _ special case _ stitched into the backs of their clothing. So that others would know that they were getting unique treatment. So that others would know that, when they saw Lulu cry out or gain a blister on her ears for no apparent reason, that they, too, could become special cases if they didn’t watch their step.

She refused to meditate or sleep without her brother there. Pushed herself to her limits. Dug her nails or her fingers into her skin to keep herself alert. Because closing her eyes during class time was a crime that her brother would be punished for.

Three months after she started on Level Two, Lulu started vomiting blood.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pleased to announce that I've finally written the last words in this thing. I still have no idea how many chapters there are because I just never pay firkin attention to any of that noise.
> 
> The next tale in this story of tribulation is in progress, and y'all can tell me how you'd like to get it in the comments.
> 
> I'd like to keep up the chapter-a-day thing, because it's now convenient. Objections and rationale for same are also welcome if you has.

Koko flushed the toilet, watching the mucous strand of red blood and black bile swirl away. Used the stone on the opposite wall. It was charmed to run a cleansing spell on anything that leaned on it. In a few minutes, the bell to end meditation would sound.

Everyone else could meditate on fucking cue.

Koko couldn’t even sleep.

Every time he shut his eyes, even for a second, there was a howling gulf he could feel that was a distinct and painful lack of Lulu. The only family he had left. The only one he could trust.

He lived for Mondays, when he was at his weakest. When the guards or attendants would take him away to the Soft Room and he’d have her arms and feel her heartbeat and breathe in her scent and he would be  _ home. _ And she’d help him kneel and he’d be asleep in her arms before she finished saying, “It’s all right,” in  _ Us _ .

They let them have two hours of sleep before they insisted on meditation. Sleep was for babies. Proper, grown Elves meditated.

It was Wednesday, today. Pancake day. Pancakes with butter. No syrup. No sweetness for the Level Twos. But not before they were bathed and changed.

Koko waited for the bell. Shivering. He was finding it harder and harder to stay warm. None of the other boys had his trouble and insisted that this place never got cold. And there were a few boys who saw him trembling and shared their body heat. Always skating on the arbitrary limits set by Citron. Friendly, but not gay.

Koko had already learned not to show that he was enjoying it. Smile. Hum. Embrace them back, and Lulu would pay for it.

The baths were nice. That was about all of it. Step into a steaming tub and just… let the people wash him. He loved being clean, and a bath with someone else doing the work was a luxury he’d rarely been able to afford. Hot water and someone else voluntarily touching him? Bliss.

The only drawback was letting these people brush his teeth. He put up with it because of a peculiar affliction called  _ touch starvation. _ Elves were just as social as humans, and had similar needs when it came to social contact. Babies would wither and die without someone to hold them. And so too might young Elves.

Twenty minutes in the tub. Water so hot that it almost scalded him, but Koko loved it. Rough hands and sponges hurrying to clean him off in that time limit. Scrubbing every inch with lye soap. He wasn’t even allowed to dry himself. For that, a pair of attendants scrubbed him over with a rough towel. Head to foot. And then manipulated him into a fresh set of clothing like he was a child. Well. A much younger child. He put up with it because someone was touching him.

After that, someone grabbed his head and someone else grabbed his jaw and sawed away at any plaque that might have gathered on his teeth. With a small brush and a lot of mint-flavoured toothpaste that filled his mouth with foam.

This morning, daydreaming of pancakes made  _ properly, _ with herbs and spices and little nuggets of fruit, or maybe even sweet bacon… something went horribly wrong.

A slip of the brush. A flinch of whoever held his head. A bubble of minty foam going the wrong way. It didn’t matter.

Because the next thing he knew, Koko was doubled over and staring at a bright splash of red on the pristine tiles. Struck almost catatonic with fear that they’d hurt Lulu for this. Choking on mint foam and he couldn’t breathe and his lungs hurt and he couldn’t breathe and they were going to be so mad at him and...

He.

Could.

Not.

Breathe!

And more came up and there was Citron and he threw up in her face and tried to bawl about that, but there was no air and the world became a dark grey tunnel and finally...

Mercifully.

Darkness.


	21. Chapter 21

Soft. Warm. Something smelled like Lavender. Lulu floated for a moment in these sensations. The last thing she remembered was filing out among the other girls to get washed. Queueing up for her turn at the hot water and a glance at a companionable touch. And then wave after wave of nausea made her clutch at her belly. Trying to quell the stabbing hurt just under her ribcage.

She remembered throwing up into the clean, hot, soapy water and just… screaming.

Pure terror.

They were going to hurt Koko! For something that neither of them could have helped. And there was no telling how bad it was going to be and it was only Wednesday.

Wednesday!

Five whole days of fretting about how they’d hurt him this time. What new part of his body would be blistered or burned or worse. What new ruin they were doing to him, body and mind.

She sensed someone approaching.

Lulu snapped awake with a yelp, heavy arms twitching to guard her head, but not making it even close to that goal. She felt weak. Like that time she and Koko had found a hot spring and only got out for food. It had been warm, for sure, but it also took the strength out of them until they were nearly as weak as babies.

This was like that, but not nearly as hot.

The pink fuzziness of Calm Emotion washed over her, and the white-robed Cleric started channeling their God. Working on some deep healing. The constant, stabbing pain just under her ribs started easing off. Her body felt warm and comfortable and everything was getting nice.

“...where’s Koko?” she asked. “Is he all right?”

The Cleric shushed her. Brushed gentle fingertips down her forehead. “Rest.”

“...not… without… Koko…” She struggled. Fought. “...needs me...”

Bargaining. “Rest, and the healing will not hurt.”

“...Koko… needs… me…” Will save. Charisma save. Will save. Constitution save.

The cleric stopped. “Madam… if I force her, she’ll undo my good work.”

A voice that made Lulu’s belly clench said, “Same as the other one.” A sigh. “Bring them together. Perhaps a respite might weaken their defences.”

_ Like fuck they will, _ thought Lulu.

The clicking of her heels retreated. Vanished. Furniture scraping. Some burly guards bought another iron bed right up to the one Lulu lay in.

Then another burly guard came with a figure in the simple white pyjamas of Level Two. Lulu knew in a heartbeat that that was Koko. He was unconscious and whining in pain. A hovering attendant kept trying to soothe him.

Lulu couldn’t make her hand move. Too weak. “Koko. I’m here, Koko.” She switched to  _ Us. _ “[Calm down, Koko. It’s all right, now.]”

They laid her brother down in the neighbouring bed. Used Mage Hand to put their hands together. Lulu gripped his as tight as she could. And the stream of whining and whimpering slowed to a halt. Koko’s breathing evened out.

Lulu allowed herself to sink into oblivion as the healers worked on them together.

_ Today I am alive, and I aim to stay that way, _ she thought.  _ Today, my brother is with me, where he belongs. _

And, most importantly,  _ In this hour, Citron is going away. _


	22. Chapter 22

Koko woke holding his sister’s hand. Looked over to her. Wan. Worn. Bearing a weak smile for him. He returned it in kind. The bed was gentle to him. The sheets were soft. The presence of his sister was warm.

He spoke  _ Us. _ “[Will they let us sleep?]”

“[Let’s find out.]”

He couldn’t sink under for more than two hours. He was hyper-aware to any noise, no matter how small. And when he did sleep, his dreams were full of tortures and pain.

The food wasn’t much better than the plain fare of level two. Flavour so subtle that it was almost imaginary. Thin broths and soupy gruels and something that bore a remarkable similarity to poster paste, only someone had stirred in the barest drizzle of honey. And it was warm and Koko didn’t mind.

Compared to level one’s Otyugh vomit, it was miles better.

Could have done with a lot more, but… what options did he have?

Chills flowed over him as he ate, and there was always some white-robed attendant on hand to feed him like an infant when his limbs flagged. Or to tuck them in under a quilt when they shivered.

It was comfortable. And tolerable. And compared to the constant terror of level two, it was paradise. So, of course, he concluded that something horrible was bound to befall them. Soon.

Bed tables and sponge baths were all very nice, but sooner or later, he knew, they’d be well enough to get thrown back into level two and all its invisible terrors.

Like Citron showing up between blinks and almost scaring his food right out of him. He reached out for Lulu, but she was gone. He shrank in on himself, desperately trying to quell his spasming guts. Failing to silence a whimper.

She stood against the opposite wall. Hands behind her back. Her face a picture of patient benevolence. “You are a very clever boy. So very smart,” she said. “Very advanced.”

Teeth chattering and body taut with terror, Koko thought to all their remedial lessons. He was still miles behind everyone if he was doing remedial stuff. This had to be a lie. “Where is my sister, please,”  _ dis, _ “honoured elder?”

Citron continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Ulcers are a level eight affliction,” she said soothingly. “As is the involuntary gastric reflux. They soon pass with proper training. Kind words and gentle touches… But you are lingering in Level Two. Because of one… unfortunate… restraining factor.”

_ Thorough and utter hatred of you, personally? _ thought Koko. He said, “You want me to say it’s my sister.”

“So very, very clever,” Citron cooed. “Your sister is a wild thing. Almost like an animal. She wouldn’t appreciate the luxuries available at the higher levels. She doesn’t enjoy intellectual pursuits appropriate to the status lent to her by her species.”

Koko wasn’t fooled for an instant. “I need her,” he said. “Can’t rest without her.”

An indulgent smile. “You’ve been sleeping for half an hour without her. You didn’t even rouse when we took her away for bathing.”

Horseshit. Fucking horseshit. Knee-deep, rank and wriggling with vermin  _ horse shit. _ His lax right hand clenched at the spot where her hand should have been… and for just a moment, he felt her fingers there.

“This isn’t real,” he said.

The world rippled. Lulu was beside him and out like a light. A sleep spell or some other means of rendering her unconscious, like poppy syrup. And worse…

Citron

Was

Right

Fucking

Next

To

Him.

Something snapped. Something happened. Something burst out of him so hard and so fast that Citron was knocked backwards into the opposite wall. A bubble of shimmering force. Keeping himself and his sister safe from any kind of attack.

Koko was out of breath. The world around him faded into shades of grey. He felt so much more weaker. So much more tired.

“Impossible,” murmured Citron.

Koko made his mouth shape the words, “...leave… us… ‘lone…” before he passed out.


	23. Chapter 23

Lulu was almost ready for this. Almost. It had been two weeks. Citron was past due to try something fucked up.

And there she was. Sitting as comfortably as one could get on the hard wooden chairs of this place. Watching Lup emerge from a poppy haze with a calculating gaze.

Lup noticed her empty hand instantly. Kept it under the covers. “Where’s my brother?” she said.

“Please, honoured elder,” corrected Citron.

Reluctantly. “Please,”  _ dis, _ “honoured elder.”

“I have come to you over my concerns for your brother,” she said. “He is not thriving and we both know it. You’ve seen how he’s been… failing. Every time you met, he looked just that little bit worse, didn’t he?”

“Not exactly my fault,”  _ dis, _ “honoured elder,” she said. “Anyone would fail at being something they’re not.”

“It may not be your fault, per se, but there are things you can do. Ways you can help him.”

_ I call horseshit, _ thought Lulu. “What are you doing to him?” A beat. “Please,”  _ dis, _ “honoured elder?”

Citron smiled. “He is merely being treated. Nothing… overt. He took a turn in the night and the house Clerics are still working on him. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

Like fuck she didn’t notice. Lulu had spent almost fifty years attuned to his breathing next to her. If that had so much as stuttered, she’d have been awake in an instant and checking on him. The solution came to her like lightning. “This is an illusion.”

The world rippled.

Koko was huddled up and had passed out from something. Probably something Citron did. But he’d never let go of her hand. Citron looked… ruffled. Knocked about and shocked at something that Lulu had missed in the mists of poppy syrup.

“You could be astounding,” Citron said. “You’re both so very talented… Were you civilised Elves, I could home you in instants…  _ Why _ do you insist on being improper?”

Lulu wanted to make a speech. Wanted to burn this bitch. Wanted to wail to any gods who might listen that this entire installation was unjust, improper, and cruel. She wanted to speak a book’s worth about how all of Citron’s tactics were doomed to fail.

But she saw it in this woman’s deep blue eyes. “You’d never understand,” said Lulu.

And she wouldn’t. Citron was working off the idea that young Elves only needed the right kind of punishment and reward system, matched with the right mix of lies, to turn them into… sausage. Something mashed up and mixed and forced into a shape that it never would have become otherwise. And she thought it was  _ easy _ .

It had worked for many. Obviously. Once you’d broken someone, it was simple to fix them in a way that you wanted. But there were those who would refuse to break. To fight in any way they could. To pay lip service to obedience whilst plotting yet another escape attempt. Or find another way to struggle out of it.

“I wish you could understand the good I am trying to do for you. There are hundreds of Elven families just waiting for a perfect child to take in as their own.”

Hundreds of Elven families didn’t want to deal with a kid who had issues, she meant. “None of them will take witch-eyed twins. Will they?”

“Superstition is starting to fade,” soothed Citron. “Some mourning families will take  _ any _ good child. Regardless of how their eyes look.”

Lulu read it as people were desperate for household slaves under the guise of parental concern. “I still think we’d be last on the market, anyway. Take your time torturing us. We’re here until we die anyway.”

“Oh, sweet daughter,” Citron cooed. “It’s my ultimate goal to see you happily assigned to a new family.”

“Who’d be happy?” said Lulu. “This place is hell.” And the last strength she had ebbed. And she fell into the darkness.


	24. Chapter 24

There was a cleric who wanted to talk to them about their disordered relationship with food. Koko had never heard such a huge pile of horseshit in his life. They remained silent until the Cleric said, “You may speak freely.”

“It’s  _ food, _ ” he said. “You don’t have a relationship with it. You eat it.”

“I have it on your record here that you repeatedly refused to eat the nutritional broth given to you in Level One.”

Koko stared at her. Lulu said, “Have you  _ tasted _ that stuff? I’ve eaten old boots and Otyugh flesh that tasted better than that. I’d eat  _ willow bark _ before I’d eat that.”

“You are also on record for disturbed resting habits.”

And now he didn’t want to look at her. “We rest just fine when we’re together. You’re the ones keeping us apart.”

“And yet, even when you rest together, neither of you can sleep for more than two hours, nor meditate for more than one.”

“We take turns meditating in places we don’t trust,” Lulu said. “And this place is to blame for the two hours thing.”

The pen scratched on the paperwork. It went on for a while. “You are expected to meditate for four hours in a row,” said the Cleric. “Together or apart.”

“We’ve  _ never _ meditated away from each other,” said Koko. “I just can’t do it.  _ We _ just can’t do it.”

But the Cleric had caught the slip. “Lulu… can  _ you _ meditate without your brother’s presence?”

Lulu clamped her jaw shut. Glared venom at the Cleric.

Who scratched at the paperwork. “Imagine if you will the most expensive and luxurious place you have ever seen. There is a bedroom with fine silk sheets and down comforters and pillows. You have silk clothing. On the large table is a feast of the best food you know…” she checked her notes. “And I see you know a great deal of fine food. Interesting.” She cleared her throat. “All this you see, and you know it is yours. What would you do?”

“I would eat my way around the table,” cooed Koko, already into the fantasy. “Mouthful by mouthful, dish by dish. A sample of one, a sample of the next one… all the way around until my stomach was about to  _ burst. _ And when I couldn’t stand to eat or drink any more, I’d tuck myself into that bed and sleep until I couldn’t sleep any more.”

Lulu murmured an agreement. “That and a hot bath I can stay in until it gets tepid… Yes, oh mighty Gods, please…”

“Hm. When presented with wealth, you choose sloth. The two of you have a very disordered attitude to luxury. What you should be doing is sharing your abundance with the needy.”

“Find me anyone more needy than us and we  _ will _ ,” laughed Lulu. “Our father walked out on us when we were four.”

“We’ve been attacked because of our eyes since we can even remember,” added Koko.

“And at twelve? Our whole village got sacked.”

“I watched our mother  _ die. _ And ever after that? We were scraping just to live another day.”

The twins chorused, “We are  _ due _ a little luxury.”

Scratch, scratch, scratch, went the pen. “And what would you do to earn it?”

“We were already doing that before we were chucked in here,” said Koko. “Everything we could, whenever we could, however we could. And we were still dirt poor and grubbing in the streets.”

“And selling your bodies,” said the Cleric. “You were picked up within twenty yards of a workhouse. If you had gone there, you would have had food, shelter, and employment in one fell swoop.”

“Have you  _ been _ in one?” challenged Lulu.

“I bet not. Starvation rations of thin gruel…”

“Stone walls without mortar...”

“Segregated...”

“Punished if you try to talk to one another…”

“Beds made of lice…”

“Soul-crushing work…”

“Y’ever picked oakum, lady?”

“Or run the corn mill?”

“Crushed bones?”

“Broke stones?”

They chorused, “You ever  _ survived _ a workhouse?”

“They don’t let you go once you’re in,” said Lulu.

“You have to  _ escape _ it,” said Koko. “Or be pretty enough to get hired out. Even  _ with _ witch eyes.”

“We’d rather starve to death, naked in the streets than go to  _ any _ of those.”

“Have you ever  _ been _ poor?” Koko challenged.

The Cleric boggled at this shared tirade. “It’s a requirement of my order that we take a vow of poverty.”

“You eat every day, don’t you?”

“You’ve never had to boil your boots, have you?”

“You’ve never picked the pockets of a dead person on the roadside who was so ripe that they burst.”

“You’ve never huddled in with a den of hibernating bugbears, just for the warmth.”

“You’ve never had to hustle for the first meal you’ve had in a week.”

“You’ve never had to choose between having a meal or having a warm place to stay.”

Another chorus, “You don’t know what poor  _ is, _ lady.”

The pen finally stopped scratching. The Cleric put down their work, somewhere out of their sight, and returned to their bedside. “I can see that you are not ready for a charitable frame of mind. There must be others who have suffered worse than you.”

“If there is, they’re dying in a workhouse,” said Koko. “And will soon have no cares at all.”

Lulu hissed. There were blisters on her ears. She forgave him with her eyes.

They could no longer speak freely.


	25. Chapter 25

Lessons continued in their sickbed. Remedial literacy. Remedial math. Remedial history, so long as it was the history of the glory of their Elven heritage. She chose children’s stories for Free Reading. Elven fairy tales. Elven kids’ own adventures.

The Fabulous Five. Cuddlepot and Snugglepie. The Vine-sitters’ Club.

All insipid and safe and not very challenging at all. Lulu appreciated it all for the heavenly quality of not having to think too hard, interpret too much, or worry at all.

Koko was reading anything he could understand about magical practice and theory. When he wasn’t reading, he was practicing incantations under his breath. Running his arms through the motions until even Lulu could hear his joints creaking. Inscribing runes with his fingertip on the sheet, but leaving no trace but that which his memory made.

Lulu could tell. Koko was working on a plan.

“[Let me in on it?]” she asked during a moment of peace. Speaking, of course, in  _ Us. _

Koko kept to their shared tongue. “[When Herself was talking to me… I made a shield. Without a wand.]”

“[Isn’t that impossible?]”

“[That’s what Herself said. So I’m working out how I did it.]”

“[I doubt if they would let you take notes.]”

“[Exactly. It’s why I’m memorising as much as I can.]”

Lulu snuggled up next to him. “[Don’t hurt what’s left of your brain.]”

They started talking spell forms in  _ Us. _ Wandless magic, that wasn’t cantrips, was fairly rare. There was wild magic outbursts, but those would kill the user if left unchecked. And there was something else.  _ Innate _ magic. Stuff that could come forth in a moment of absolute stress. To produce some soul-wanted magic in a time of need. With or without a spell focus.

Finding that out took  _ weeks. _

And they were visibly on the mend. They would be sent back to their wards, soon. Back to a life of bland food and unwritten rules and watching their beloved sibling getting tormented for their own misdeeds. Back to hard beds with minimal palliases and not being in control of anything at all. Not even how long they were allowed to rest.

So every time he saw the laundry hamper pass them by, Lulu thought so very hard about how much they both  _ needed _ a very small, inconsequential, but insistent flame. One that would set the entire damn place on fire.


	26. Chapter 26

The smoke filled the wards first. Koko could hear screaming from upstairs. Guards were rushing around. He was the only one to escape his cell and use a metal bowl to sound a bell. “Baths!” he shouted. “Line up for the baths!”

And confused, but obedient, the hundred-so boys trained to respond to the bell… obeyed.

There was a door in the bathing room. No attendants. No tin tubs full of steaming and soapy water. Koko could feel his ears stinging and realised that Lulu must be disobeying, too. And he got confirmation of that when an attendant’s door opened and there she was.

His ears were on fire and he didn’t care. Because she was there. There were bare stone corridors that would take attendants wherever they were assigned to go. Empty, now, as everyone in charge was busy with the kids on the higher levels.

They got out, leading the other boys through to the courtyard, where the Level Ones were already waiting. Some merciful magic had opened their cell doors for them, and they had had the sense to get out. Some of the Level Twos were crying. Some panicked.

Koko knew in an instant that anyone in Level Three or above would be worse. Way worse. “Lulu, we need hazel. We need it right now.”

“Any Druids or nature Clerics? Anyone who follows Pan?” she called. And then repeated herself in Gutter Elven.

Some tentative hands went up.

Koko switched to Gutter Elven. “[We need a hazel bush. One with dry twigs we can break off. As fast as you can.]”

Prayers were uttered. And a miracle bloomed in the middle of that bare, packed earth. A hazel bush. Koko and Lulu picked their wands. Told everyone the hazel twig trick.

And then he cast mage hand. But not the regular kind. A big one. Used it to pull openings into the side of the inferno that was once Saint Vingo’s. Carefully, gently, pulled the screaming and helpless out.

Lulu was controlling the fire. Making corridors so that those with the sense to try and escape could. Cast Feather Fall on anyone who jumped.

Other kids got the idea. Though none were inclined to extinguish the raging blaze. And Elf by Elf, the entire population of Saint Vingo’s gathered in the courtyard.

Even though they were safe from the flames, the higher level Elven kids screamed and wailed through the night. Some went catatonic with terror. Some lost bowel control. Some actively prayed to their ‘honoured’ elder Citron.

Who was no longer present. And neither were the guards. And neither were the attendants or Clerics or servers who had worked in this place. There were just two thousand Elven children in an empty courtyard. Broken, most of them. Hardly daring to move as the fire burned Saint Vingo’s to the ground.

Koko and Lulu did what they could. Setting those with more… presence… to look after those who lacked it. Sending those who knew a few Clerical spells to try Calm Emotion on the screamers. Sending those who had blankets to share them with those who were shivering in shock.

In brief, matching those who had something with those who needed it.

Only in the first light of dawn did Koko see that his and his sister’s ears were blistered like crackling all over again. But that magic was fading as the fire began to burn itself out. Several of the Level Ones had tried to scale the fence, and discovered that the stone walls were still warded. The central structure of Saint Vingo’s may have been gone, but some of its spells still remained.

Including the spells that kept them all trapped here.

Koko napped in Lulu’s arms as the sun began to change the colours of the sky. Without Saint Vingo’s oppressive presence, there were eight courtyards, all arranged in a gigantic square against the central pile of their former prison. All bifurcated by a high chain fence to keep the girls from touching the boys.

That chain was no longer enspelled to harm anyone who came near it, and so it came down. The walls between the interior courtyards were also lacking any restraining magic. Those who had spent some time with bricklayers and builders were already working on roofless shacks. Someone who had a pointy piece of wood was already working on a privy pit.

People were starting to pick through the ashes of Saint Vingo’s. Sometimes starting the fire up afresh in the process. There were no books. No scrolls. Just what they remembered. And whatever could possibly prove to be useful.

The greatest find was the Magic Lockers. Each no bigger than an outhouse, they held any variety of things. Could be food. Could be linen. Could be confiscated artefacts. Nobody could tell by looking at the outside. And getting inside was an exercise in arcana checks, perception checks, and wisdom saving throws.

Koko was the one who used Bigsby’s hand to extract the quartzite kitchen. Counterspace and places to cook, true, but all of the metal had been blistered and warped. Wetted rags could clean it, though. And he had somewhere to begin.

And thanks to the junior Nature Clerics, he had some things to cook. Nobody went hungry and nobody ate slop.

Canvas from one of the Magic Lockers served as roofs for the shanty shacks. And some could charm vines into becoming sort of springy, wicker-esque beds. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement in the world, but he and Lulu had had worse.

And the Cleric who had told them that there were souls more unfortunate than they… well. They’d been correct. Just in the wrong direction.

There were sixteen levels to Saint Vingo’s. Those who Madam Citron decreed ready to re-home were at the highest. Those who were works in progress could be anything below. But those poor creatures at level sixteen… They had no free will left.

They were beautiful, of course. Their hair grown out past their shoulder blades and, at least initially, elaborately braided and beset with common gemstones. They wore simple dresses or robes, some had shawls. But their eyes were vacant and they only had the capacity to follow instructions.

“I fucking called it,” Lulu growled. “She wasn’t running an adoption facility. She was operating a slave farm.”

Koko didn’t know what to do for them except keep them fed on the bounty of nature. Give them flavour and variety. Some of the poor things would stop at random moments and crane their necks for a passing cloud or a bird. As if they’d never seen one before.

After a couple of weeks had passed under canvas and rubble roofs, a reporter came in past the walls of Saint Vingo’s.


	27. Chapter 27

Tansar Longscroll rolled as he landed. He hadn’t dared land a gryphon in this area, but people wanted to know what was going on inside the thirty-foot-high stone walls. People had come with deliveries for Saint Vingos, but reported to the nearby town of Frankersbear that the gates had not opened. Some reported hearing the screams of young Elves.

A featherfall necklace had helped in his arrival, and a Copy Book would help him send and receive messages from the Frankersbear Courier. As well as sharing whatever he documented there. The wards on the walls stopped anyone and anything from mounting them or digging under them without the administrations’ permission. Which had thwarted the firefighters on the night when it burned.

Frankersbear grew increasingly worried about the children, attempting things from outside the walls to either get in or drop supplies to the children inside. By now, they were extremely concerned about the quiet beyond those walls.

He expected the starving to be eating the dead. A scene of horror and deprivation. Filth and savagery.

He was shocked to see a small, semi-functional village. Underaged Elves were picking salvage from the ruins. Some were using whatever magics they possessed to attempt to open the still unopened Magical Cabinets. There was a block and tackle arrangement to lift anything heavy still in the charcoal-filled cellar. There were walkways and gantries as underaged Elves picked charcoal out of the ruins. Lifted masonry out of the ruins.

They were making things from what they had. Building a little city. Working on a tower that could plausibly reach the top of the wall and however further they needed.

There were latrines, neatly lined up near a wall, and washing facilities by the water tower that had survived the conflagration. There were Elves running a hand pump, taking turns at a seemingly fruitless exercise. But as Tansar watched, water leaked out of a spill valve, high above.

There were gardens that grew an abundance of vegetation. There were others who had bows, who would shoot down any bird they could. There were still more who caught rats.

But that was not what maintained Tansar’s attention. There was a young Elf of perhaps seventy. Impeccably groomed. Posture from somewhere in the depths of a manual on etiquette and deportation. And the most vacant eyes that Tansar had ever seen in an allegedly sapient being.

“Hail and well met,” said the Elf, speaking Gutter Elven. “How may I serve?”

Tansar was already drawing a quick sketch of this young Elf with Magic Markers. Vacant expression and all. He wrote as he spoke, because one didn’t get to be a news reporter without being able to multitask. “My name is Tansar Longscroll and I’m from the Frankersbear Courier. Are you in charge in this… place?”

“No, sir,” said the vacant-eyed Elf. “How may I serve?”

“How about… you take me to the ones who are in charge.”

The vacant-eyed Elf offered their hand. And when Tansar took it, they lead him to what was a sort of dining hall. Where a pair of twinned Sun Elves held court whilst also running a kitchen of sorts. One was repeatedly taking garlic off the other. There was a stream of Elves queueing up for the constant stream of food coming out. There was another vacant-eyed Elf stirring a bowl, which the younger twins swapped out for a fresh one, and worked with the product they had taken away. One or the other danced over to the queue, and doled out portions and advice according to what they wished.

It was busy and loud and somehow the last thing that Tansar had expected. Because it was so organised when Madame Citron kept painting all these youths as uncivilised barbarians, thieves, and whores. Perhaps, even murderers. But here they were. They’d made their own community. Their own shelters. They kept up civilised behaviour, order, and a degree of comfort despite their obviously limited resources.

“Charm some of that hemp,” one of the twins was saying, “We need a lot more rope, and we’re going to need thread to repair the clothing we have. Ask around, see if anyone can shape stone so that we at least have some kind’a spindles. Gods know we got plenty of rocks in this fucking hole.” The advice came with a bowl of seemingly random products.

And it was then that Tansar saw that each and every citizen of this improvised model city wore a carved, wooden spork on a string around their neck.

“Hello, Fala,” said the other twin, turning over something they were frying on an improvised hotplate. “Who’s your new friend?”

“May I announce, Tansar Longscroll of the Frankersbear Courier. Mr Longscroll, I have the pleasure of introducing the twins, Koko and Lulu… of a town that is no longer living, and I must not name.”

“Tre Lllew-Ddion,” said one of the twins. “So they finally sent someone in to look out for us. That’s almost nice, except two weeks have gone by.”

Tansar wrote, _Tele Vision?_ in his Copy Book. He’d certainly never heard about it and, since he was a half-Elf and raised by humans, didn’t know a thing about Elven spelling in Common.

“Welcome to Scrapton,” said the one who had said the name of their dead town. “You live here, now. There is literally no escape.”

“Are you hungry, Fala? What looks good?” said the other. The girl of the pair. She had an empty bowl and was gesturing at the offerings. Those who were waiting were kind to the vacant-eyed Fala. They let the Elf take their time.

“Vegetables are good for the body,” recited Fala. “Today is not a meat day.”

“You just point to what you want, Fala. It’s okay.”

Slowly, almost like a stick insect, Fala pointed to the stew pot, and then to some circles of unleavened bread.

The lady twin dished that much out in order. And wrapped Fala’s hands around it. “Go sit and eat. Good boy.”

The male twin looked like he wanted to weep until he threw up. But he kept working on cooking. “Bet’cha were expecting chaos, disease and destruction,” he said. He was kneading dough. “Surprised?”

“Very much. Yes.” He used his marker’s magic to make a portrait of this young Elven lad. He couldn’t be much more than fifty. “How did you manage all of this?”

A shrug. “Matching needs to abilities. Working out what we had to have. Figuring out who was best at doing what… like. We’re still scraping? But we’re scraping forwards. Progress is progress. Two weeks ago? Fala needed to ask permission to speak. Now we’ve got him showing us what he wants. Pretty impressive for a Level Fourteen.”

“I’m sorry. Level… what?”

His name was Koko and he detailed the sixteen levels of Saint Vingo’s. He and his sister had started at Level Zero, because they would not even try to behave in the way Madame Citron expected Level Ones to behave. This involved a lot of sensory deprivation and a blistering of their ears so severe that Lulu said they looked ‘like crackling’.

Level One was ‘prison’, meant to teach them what they could expect if they didn’t behave.

Level Two was ‘infancy’, meant to teach them dependence and a certain level of comportment. And that was as allegedly high as the twins had accomplished before they came down with a case of bleeding ulcers.

Testimony about other levels came from other young Elves. As they went up, the freedoms went down and the relative luxuries went up, until they were ready for their future homes. As perfectly-behaved, silent, empty Elven shells with no will of their own and no personality left.

Level Sixteens needed someone to tell them what to do. Almost all the time. It had taken the miniature city’s population two weeks just to get them to ask for the privy. Or to bathe. Some couldn’t even brush their own hair.

It was chilling.

“You’re officially an adult, right?” said Koko. “Over one hundred and everything?”

“I’m one hundred and five, but I can’t see how--”

“You can order them to look after themselves. We tried, but they’ll only take orders from an adult Elf. Half our time is taken up just looking after them. More than half our handpower. We have to drag them indoors when it rains…” He pummelled the bread a little more than he really needed to. Started breaking the dough up into fist-sized balls and flattening them out. “I don’t know who  _ she _ was giving them out to, but it can’t have been nice.”

There was no need to ask who  _ she _ was. Tansar could guess. “I’m guessing that I have to be general enough to give them some free will, but specific enough not to cause trouble.”

“Got it in one.” Lulu tagged Koko and they swapped roles. Koko was now dishing out food and Lulu was the one making unleavened bread platters. “Most of what you should do is give them permission. Like,  _ you’re allowed to go inside from the rain if you want to. _ We want them to have their free will back.” Three more raw platters joined a tray. “She promised us work. Used our talents as a lever. Tried to tell us how smart we were and how we could have a family…  _ if _ we played by her rules. Followed her instructions. Called her,” gag, “honoured elder.” One tray in the improvised oven. Another loading up with more single servings of flat bread. “I knew it was bait and switch from the first second. I just had no idea how bad.”

Without a word, Koko left his post to embrace his sister. Tansar, struck by their similarities, drew a portrait of them like that.

That was the one to wind up on the front page of the Frankersbear Courier.

The one to take the world by storm.

The one that, eventually, re-united them with their grandfather.


	28. Chapter 28

Koko had his ‘reading glasses’ and his book back by the time the air drops became regular. That and a pencil meant that he could write things down again. And, for the first time, he could read the original Elven print that was on the pages of  _ Uncle Jon’s Elven Bathroom Reader. _ He’d been afraid to see, at first, whether the writing held the same offensive views as  _ her, _ but curiosity overwhelmed fear. Boredom may or may not have lent a helping hand. It was hard to tell. But what there were were stories and interesting facts, and even some useful advice.

He turned the page.

_ Witch Eyes, _ it said, and he almost closed the book. The woodcut had a portrait of someone’s eyes, but the artist had shaded each iris differently.  _ Also known as Heterochromia. The condition of having mismatched irises was once viewed as a marker of intelligence and otherworldly perception. However, since the reign of Emperor Piroshki the Thrice-mad, it has been viewed as an unfortunate defect, and devolved into being viewed as bad luck by all races. The stare of a witch-eyed person is said to bring an unfortunate fate to the victim. _

_ However, _ the page continued,  _ there is no factual evidence to enforce that view. Numerous experiments have been conducted in facilities of education… _

It was like living in a box all his life and then having the walls and roof fall away, revealing the wonderful expanse of the world beyond. It was like the first breath of fresh air after spending a night in a foetid old badger hole.

He read it to Lulu. He read it to Suke. He read it to anyone who would sit still for the three minutes it took to read it out loud. He pointed it out to Mr Longscroll, who knew already. And who may have written a puff piece about how excited this young, witch-eyed Elf was to learn that he wasn’t really bad luck after all.

It was the first time that Koko felt like dancing since he and his sister were captured. Not that there was much room for dancing, but he danced anyway. And sang, despite the fact that screaming in Saint Vingo’s for days on end had stolen any chance of a decent singing voice from him. And he hugged every single person who would let him.

Suke… did not.

Some time during Koko’s recovery from bleeding ulcers, Suke had graduated into a more ‘proper’ level. And in Level Three,  _ she _ had done something to the beautiful Sea Elf to make him sick whenever he did something  _ she _ deemed as too gay.

It broke Koko’s heart.

They could have had something sweet, together. They could have had something  _ real. _ But now Suke was afraid of holding another dude, or even looking wistfully in Koko’s direction. Now he avoided looking Koko in his mismatched eyes. Now he was cold and aloof.

Saint Vingo’s had taken the warm and friendly boy who was Suke and started his transformation into an empty doppelganger without a heart.

It was easier to think of that boy that Koko wanted to kiss as just… being dead. And the stranger with the same face and the same name as some cruel co-incidence. It did Koko no good to get hung up on somebody that he used to know.

Others in this place were learning how to cook from him and his twin. Letting either or both of them have some well-earned time off. Which, ironically, Koko was more inclined to spend in emptying the rubble out of Saint Vingo’s cellar.

Most of the stuff was gone. It was all picking through the remnants to separate charcoal lumps from bits of stone. And trying to figure out what the living hell they could actually use Saint Vingo’s ominous footprint  _ for. _ There were no tunnels, and the stone walls of the cellar were enspelled to resist tunneling attempts. Just like the walls.

He swept up the floor. Hoping that someones optimistic dream would come true and he’d find a trapdoor or secret passage or just…  _ something. _ Anything. The cellar had been their big hope during the winter and their enormous disappointment during the spring. And now it was as empty and hollow as all of their other hopes. The last buckets of dust would wind up down the privy. The people who could shape materials had made a nice staircase, but they couldn’t do anything to the cellar walls. Just like they couldn’t do anything to the giant walls surrounding them.

It was something to do. He was done talking to Tansar. He was done with working on the fields. He was -impossible to believe it- done with cooking. He was done with just… scraping for everyone.

He was  _ tired. _

Bored.

Sick of being tied to this one place. Feeling trapped. Wanting to see, hear, taste,  _ experience… _ something -anything- different.

There were no trapdoors.

No more hope. Beyond that which was embodied in the tower. He sat in a corner of the cellar, back into the corner. Facing the corner diagonally opposite. This was it. Four walls inside of four bigger walls. A model city far away from commerce, trade, communication… Tansar wasn’t sharing his fucking Copy Book with anyone. Not that a lot of his people had anyone outside that they wanted to communicate with, but…

Wait.

Did he just think of everyone here as  _ his people? _

Fuck.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Then he said it out loud. “Fuck!” Then he took the deepest breath he could take and screamed it loud and long and angry.

And when he opened his eyes, Lulu was there. “You okay, Koko?”

“I want a holiday,” he said.


	29. Chapter 29

The tower could look over the wall, now. The collected Elves had motivation to bring more stones to the top, to make more mortar, and begin working on some kind of drawbridge to get over it. Because the price of coming up to the top and seeing somewhere else that was  _ not _ the four, dour walls of Saint Vingos, was adding to the tower in one way or another. They could see a small encampment where some people from Frankersbear were working on solutions from their end. Ladders had obviously failed. And trees would not grow within thirty yards of those hated walls.

That hardly mattered to Lulu. Her brother was going sick inside his mind.

There was a condition, in our world, called ‘going wire-happy’. Prisoners of war in the camps would crack, and try any desperate thing to get out. To be free. These were often unsuccessful, and the reward for the attempt was a quick death.

Lulu did not know of this. All she knew was that her brother was just the first. It hit the Level Sixteens, largely mute and helpless though they were. And they would repeatedly run at the grim, tall walls in attempts to scale them. One, taken up to their tower to see the woodlands, tried to throw herself over the wall. A leap that none of them were capable of. She was saved by a quick mage with Featherfall.

They could not paint those dour walls. Some had tried, only to watch their attempted artistry boil, burn, and turn to ash before their eyes. They could, however, paint the insides and outsides of their shanty shacks, and the entire miniature town had become a riot of colour. Fanciful scenes, abstract patterns of shapes. It was all aggressively cheerful.

And it made no impact on Koko.

He would start from meditation, sometimes, and just dash out of their shared little hut. Out into the open, regardless of the weather. Regardless of the time of day. And flop on his back and stare at the sky. Most times, that was all he would do. For an hour or two, or until Lulu dragged him back inside where he could be warm.

The worst days were when he would scream. Breath after breath devoted to howling into the unheeding sky.

Lulu tried building a fantasy for him. A happy place to go, inside his head. They’d have a Traveller’s caravan, built for two. So they’d have shelter wherever they went. And they’d never have to eat Rat Stew again because they were world-famous chefs. Spreading good food and a love of cooking wherever they went. And the world would love them. And they’d turn their witch eyes into something good again.

Some days, it worked. Most days, it didn’t.

She rocked him into a torpor, humming and stroking his ears in the way that had always relaxed him. This must be what it might have been like for him. Watching her fall apart because she hated her own junk. And now she was watching him fall apart because he couldn’t stand staring at four tall, grey walls for one second more. Because people still came to him for solutions. Because they hoped he could  _ do _ something. Anything. To make this situation any better.

And some nights, she wondered if it might be better to let him freeze to death in the rain or snow, the next time he ran out into the foul weather. She hated herself for thinking that. A world without Koko in it might as well be a world made of ash.

And on the worst of the worst nights, she would hold him close and whisper to him in  _ Us. _ “[Stay with me. Please stay with me. I need you. Just… stay with me.]”

And after a month of this, they got a parcel addressed to them. By name. It was large, and heavy, and apparently from a Tostaada Sellsnow. Inside was a cake, and two large cloaks, and a letter in Elven.

_ My dearest grandchildren, _ it said,  _ I can only hope you forgive me. I thought you died with my daughters and sons during that raid so many years ago. It wasn’t until I saw your portraits that I realised that you were still alive. _

_ I haven’t many years left to me, but it is my sincere hope that we can be re-united. You can live with me on my farm, where it’s safe. _

_ Considering your troubled past, I know you have no reason to believe me, but I have a portrait of the two of you when you were but babes in arms. The portrait has been damaged, but you can still see your mother and your younger selves. _

_ May this be proof enough. May you come to your family in safety. _

He’d signed it,  _ Grampa Tostaada. _

“We have  _ family, _ ” cooed Lulu.

Koko, surfacing to rationality, murmured, “We’re  _ Sellsnows _ ?”

The portrait within was one they recognised from their long-dead home. Themselves as very young children, two or three years old. Held in the arms of their mother and father. Father’s face had been cut away, but a peek of dark hair remained. Mother looked beautiful in the portrait, though there was just a hint of the weariness and worry that they knew there.

Father was holding Lulu, and everything in his posture said that he hadn’t wanted to.

Koko said, “Dark-haired parents aren’t supposed to have light-haired kids. I read that in my book.”

And just like that, a mystery from their childhood was solved.  _ That _ was why their hair colour mattered.  _ That _ was why their father thought that they didn’t belong to him.

“She said we looked just like him,” he murmured, fingering the edge where the face had been cut away. Cut. And then he said. “Sellsnow. Sell. Snow. How or why would anyone sell  _ snow _ ?”

“That’s not our name,” insisted Lulu. “Mother took Father’s name when they bonded. So we’re not Sellsnows.”

Koko put on the cloak. “He’d know. Wouldn’t he? He’d know our family name.”

Lulu could see the allure. Having a surname meant that there was family out there. Having a family meant having a past. Having a past meant there was something to build the future on. Koko had said it earlier, they were not going to be rootless and nameless.

That night, she got hold of one of the experimental sheets of paper that they had been working on, and even more experimental ink, and something she could use to write with. And for the first time, she willingly wrote in High Elven.

_ Dear Grampa… _


	30. Chapter 30

That was the start of another fever in Scrapton. Distant relatives were popping up all over the place. Grand Uncles. Fourth, fifth, and up to eighth cousins. In-laws. People asking if one child or another _might_ be a child they hoped was not lost after all.

Those who had family shared the news, in an inverse of a proud parent announcing that they had a baby. They would run all over Scrapton telling people that they were a grandchild, a nibling, or cousin. Officially.

Those who had no such news congratulated those who had it. Because they had the hope of finding someone who wanted them, too.

There were still four walls, but there was a connection beyond them. They weren’t isolated. They weren’t going to stay stuck there. They held out for just one chance.

The tower had grown tall enough for a drawbridge to the one that the camp had built on the other side of the wall. The one on civilisation’s side was better built. Less improvised. It had engineers and architects behind it.

Koko stood with Lulu on either side of their drawbridge. Made out of charmed vines and lumber that had been sent over the wall. It was balanced on the little strut where the last step was, and had taken some trickery to get it up there and get it ready. Fala gave it a push, and the twins slowed its descent with some rope they’d fixed to the far end. Behind them, teams of young Elves also took up the slack. Bit by bit, the forty-foot bridge lowered towards the other tower.

The bridge crossed the invisible line of the wall. Began to overhang the far side. A guide rope on the far end dropped as Gis let go of the Mage Hand that had been holding it. Someone else, on the other side, conjured a Mage Hand to bring it to the waiting adults on the other side. They didn’t pull on their end. No more than to make sure the bridge was still on target.

It got heavier as it lowered towards the other tower. More young Elves and even Tansar Longscroll took up the burden on the ropes. Playing it out and lowering the bridge that had taken them all three months to make, and a further week to properly manhandle up to the top of the tower.

It took hours, but there was a cheer on both sides as the bridge kissed the strut on the opposite side. Sol journeyed out to grow vines to help support it and stop it bowing in the middle. She was the smallest of them who could Charm Plants. Koko and Lulu each wound the lowering rope around a bar built above the door, and they tightened it. The adults on the other side shored the bridge to their tower as well. Neither crossing the line of demarcation where the wall stood, ten feet below.

When it was all good, Koko rang the bell.

Below, in Scrapton, everyone dropped what they were doing, grabbed whatever they held precious, and guided a higher level kid to take with them. Those who had been hauling rope scurried down to get their own. Tansar stood aside on a small ledge so he could document it all.

Koko and Lulu tightened the slack as the shoring improved. People on the other end fixed the loose side to their strut. Someone lowered on either side to add supports to the underside. Quick and efficient.

They knew what Citron was like. Some mages, late of her employ, had been captured or had turned themselves in. They detailed the spells and wards they knew of in Saint Vingo’s campus. How they worked. How they were maintained. It would be easy to guess that any escape attempt would be foiled by _something._ And something demoralising at that.

Koko had thought of it, too. Which was why he and Lulu had come up with the Escape Plan. Those most in need of help would line up with those who knew the most about helping them. The ones in greatest need would get out first. There had been drills. Two rings of the bell for Grab Your Partner. Two more for Line Up At The Tower. And now, today, a last two rings for Climb Those Stairs, This Is It.

Some Elves down there had had their Go Bags of Holding packed and ready for two months. Two months that the twins had been ensuring that everyone had Lembas and Hardtack and Jerky and waterskins. Just in case. Two months of drying and making small jars of Preserves out of everything they had to spare. Two months of prepping, just in case they had to add another ten feet to the tower for round two.

Koko watched them all gather with mechanical precision. Clinging tight to the stonework they had had a hand in laying down. He knew that Lulu was clinging tight both to the stonework and to the bell cord. Watching the bridge for the slightest sign of any destructive spell. Checking the overhanging rope for signs as well. If the bridge collapsed to the point where it was uncrossable, she would sound the bell twice more, for Party’s Over.

Sol took Fala’s hand. Many more behind them were on the stairs. The line wound a long way out into the yards of Saint Vingo’s. Three quarters of the way around.

Nobody pushed. Nobody shoved. Nobody panicked.

The adults on the other side - a Tiefling and an Orc - gave the thumb’s up.

“Go,” said the twins in unison. It was their job, once the queue had withered and all were gone across, to check Scrapton for anyone who might have lingered despite the promise of freedom. Theirs was the hardest job of all. To go back to captivity, within _spitting distance_ of liberty, and make absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt certain that they were the last Elves to leave Saint Vingo’s. They had a pot of paint each. Red for Koko and green for Lulu. They would throw open every door, every closet and cupboard. Check under every bed, and mark the lintel of every building they’d cleared. And when two daubs were on every entrance and exit, _then_ they would grab _their_ Go Bags of Holding and join the others on the other side of the wall.

“We’re going for a walk, now,” said Sol. “All the way across to the adults, and then all the way down and out the other tower. Do you see them smiling? They like us. They want to help us.”

Step by step, Sol and Fala walked out on the bridge. Others shuffled along behind them. Their combined weight made the bridge creak, but it would hold. Structural engineers on the other side had sent instructions and plans. It would hold during a fucking cyclone.

Koko fought every urge he had to run across. He’d made a promise. He’d sworn an oath.

Sol’s and Fala’s feet hit the middle point. And nothing happened. They crossed to the other side, and nothing happened. They started a careful descent down the other tower, out of Koko’s field of view. And nothing happened.

He started counting in his head as pair after pair went through the promised portal. Two. Four. Six. Eight…

Lulu was counting, too. Counting down. Nineteen ninety-eight. Nineteen ninety-six. Nineteen ninety-four. Nineteen-ninety-two… Counting in whispers, but counting down.

Koko appreciated the cross-check, held the stone. Kept his count in his head.

Twenty. Forty. Fifty. Nothing continued to happen to the bridge. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty…

He could see lines happening on the other side, in the camp. Pocket tents sprung up in neat little rows. People gathered pairs as they emerged from the tower. Welcomed them into the tents, two by two. Four per tent. People in the camp started to bustle about.

One hundred. Someone must have heard Lulu whisper, “Nineteen hundred,” and started up a cheer. Koko dipped a finger in the pot and made a dot on the largest stone by his hand. One hundred free. Nineteen hundred to go. The count started over

Two. Four Six...Ten. Twenty. Thirty…

On and on.

Two hundred. Three hundred. Four…

And still, nothing was happening to the bridge.

Kids started smiling as they crossed. Koko started smiling with Lulu. They were one quarter of the way there. One quarter!

Light faded and they hung up lanterns or cast illumination spells. And still they walked. Step by patient step. Across to freedom. One thousand. One thousand one hundred. One thousand two hundred…

He could see the lights of the queue. What had once seemed impossible to clear was now a stubby tail that didn’t even reach the massive and impenetrable doors of Saint Vingo’s.

Two by two, side by side, hand in hand, the lost, the abandoned, and the forsaken all found their way out of that prison.

Lulu whispered, “Five hundred,” and Koko's heart leaped for his throat. No plan had ever worked so well. Not in his life. Not in their lives. He trembles at his post. He rolled perception again and again at the middle of the bridge.

The night cannot tire him. There’s too much fear. Too much worry. Too much tension to be tired.

Tansar Longscroll catnapped on his little ledge. There was nothing new for him to write, so he occasionally drew studies of the kids waiting to have their chance at freedom. Their faces, their expressions. Their posture. And occasionally, he would sketch Lulu or Koko.

It was almost midnight when there was no more queue.

And the bridge was still sound.

Twenty red dots were lined up on the stone were Koko had been keeping check. But… just in case… they still had to do their thing.

“Off you go, Mr Longscroll,” said Lulu. “We’ll be a while doing our thing.”

They took their lanterns down the stairs.

Scrapton was a ghost town, now. Abandoned and liminal. Scary, now that there was no-one else there to make noise. Koko found himself doing stealth rolls as he went through everything they had made. The storage shelves and storm cellar in the basement remains of Saint Vingo’s. The little houses that had evolved into homes over the seasons. The shelves and cupboards of the kitchens. The empty hollows of the cabinets that had once been dimensionally transcendent storage spaces for contraband, confiscated items, paperwork, and even Citron’s files. The last one had been opened, and left in the shelter of the cellar, where little could get to it. That one, he checked and closed. Lulu would be able to open it and double-check it.

He added the word, _Evidence_ to its exterior. When someone could finally breach those walls, they’d find plenty to bury Citron with. They could not carry all of that across to the other side. Not in a million years.

It took another couple of hours, but he checked off every building. And Lulu double-checked it. She’d added, _Fucking kill Citron slowly_ to his simple label on Citron’s files cabinet.

Every building had been checked. Every storage area. And double-checked. It was time to leave.

He made sure Lulu had her supplies. She made sure he had his. They had their reading glasses. He had his grimoire, recipe notes, and _Uncle Jon’s Elven Bathroom Reader._ All in one neat package. Well, semi neat, because Koko’s handwriting was myopic at best and only readable by Koko at his worst. The margins were only so large and Koko had had a lot to jot down.

There was silence as they climbed the stairs. The Tiefling and the Orc were still waiting with anxiety in their eyes. They smiled with pointed teeth and urged them across the bridge.

Which continued to do _nothing._

When they stepped on the mid-point, there was a rumble. It made the twins leap for the other side and for the safety of these strangers’ arms. Koko looked back to see the walls crumbling away like they were ageing hundreds of years in an instant. The tower and everything they had built within was intact, but the walls fell.

“Son of a bitch,” he blurted.

“Fuck,” whispered Lulu.

They scurried down to the ground and dashed to the remains of the wall. Checking that it wasn’t an illusion. People carried them away before they could. Citron had woven an enchantment into her grounds. Everything she had built would age a thousand years once the last of her ‘students’ and staff left its grounds.

Once Saint Vingo’s became obsolete, it would be easy to claim that it happened hundreds - a thousand - years prior. Casting doubt on anything that anyone who survived there would claim.

Thanks to Lulu’s fire, that claim was impossible.

People took them away to the last Pocket Tent, where a wizened old Elf waited next to a warm and varied feast. Beef. Venison. Mutton. _Duck._ Steaming vegetables and a variety of beverages including some small beers. And real beds.

It was an effort to ignore the food. To pay attention to the old man…

_Who looked a great deal like their Uncles… And who had their mothers’ eyes._

Lulu took the guess. “Grampa… Tostaada?”

He smiled. “Yes, my darlings. Welcome. Welcome back.”

 


End file.
